


Sleeping Under the Stars

by Writcraft



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-09
Updated: 2012-06-09
Packaged: 2017-11-07 09:43:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/429607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writcraft/pseuds/Writcraft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>DADA Professor Harry Potter finds himself on a Muggle camping trip with newly appointed Potions Master, Draco Malfoy.  The men bicker, work out some tensions (*ah-hem*) and the inevitable smut ensues</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleeping Under the Stars

“It would be brilliant for the kids. Just think…learning to do things without magic, even if it’s just for a long weekend, getting involved with the Muggle community, volunteering for a Muggle charity….It’s exactly the kind of thing that Hogwarts needs and the Minister has been banging on about Hogwarts getting the students more integrated with Muggle society for ages.”

Severus was watching an enthusiastic Potter gesture excitedly, waving a colourful leaflet around in the air and yammering on about something to do with camping. The curse of being Hogwarts Headmaster and inheriting the brat as a staff member was possibly worse than being bitten by that damned snake.

Severus looked at the crumpled, dog eared leaflet with disdain as it was thrust beneath his rather large nose. The leaflet screamed “Duke of Edinburgh Award” in large red letters and was full of pictures of young Muggles looking entirely too happy for their own good, surrounded by rolling hills and advertisements for camping equipment. 

“Muggle camping, Potter? No magic for a whole weekend? If I remember correctly you have been camping exactly twice during which time you had your wand stolen, ran into a group of bloodthirsty Death Eaters, came face to face with the Dark Lord, engaged in entirely inappropriate activities with Miss Granger which led your best friend to splinch himself in a fit of jealous rage-”

“-Hey! That’s not what happened! Hermione and I never-”

Severus held up his hand, stopping Harry in his tracks.

“I don’t need to know the details, Potter, I have only recently eaten breakfast. I am simply pointing out that you do not have the best track record when it comes to camping. What makes you think you of all people would be an appropriate supervisor?”

“How hard can it be? Besides, one of the other Professors could get involved and help me.”

“Indeed.” 

Severus contemplated his DADA professor, with his birds nest hair and glasses set slightly askew and wondered again how on earth he had ended up with Potter as one of his professional colleagues, when the man was barely over twenty and had the intellectual brain power of a kneazle. 

Not for the first time Severus felt some regret letting the world know he had survived the Final Battle. He could have been running a nice apothecary in the Outer Hebrides as the anonymous Steven Prince instead of dealing with a school full of brats and Potter’s newfound enthusiasm for camping, of all things. Still, here he was. Alive. Talking about Muggle camping. He supposed it was simply another cross he would have to bear.

The germ of an idea began to form in Severus’ mind and he schooled his face to hide the beginnings of what he suspected was a very ominous smile. If assisting the Potter brat with realising his bird brained ambitions was to be his lot in life, Severus supposed he might as well have some fun with it.

“So?” Potter’s face was so very eager and he was practically bouncing in his chair with excitement. Severus took the corner of the dog-eared leaflet in two fingers, holding it away from his face with some disdain, pausing just long enough for Potter’s impatience to become palpable.

“I think it’s an excellent idea.” 

Oh, this would be fun. If he had been alone Severus would have been rubbing his hands together very much like a man who had just formulated a delightfully evil plan purely for his own entertainment.

“What?! No you don’t. Do you?”

“Stop gawping at me like a startled fish, Potter. Have you never had a good idea before?”

Severus held up a hand again before Potter could start speaking. 

“Never mind. I already know the answer to that. My only concern is your lack of adequate training. You can’t simply expect to take a group of children on a Muggle camping trip   
without having had any sort of preparation. You seem to struggle enough with camping when magic is involved, Merlin only knows what might happen to you when you don’t have any magic to assist. You are supposed to be supervising the children and teaching them something useful, not baffling them all with your own personal brand of ineptitude.”  
Potter didn’t look quite so happy now and he didn’t even know the half of it. 

“I knew there would be a catch.”

“Not quite, Potter. I would simply suggest you take a week this half term to train. Go camping, do it the Muggle way, write a report for me on the benefits of this scheme of yours and a detailed log of your own camping experience and then we can discuss it further when I am wholly satisfied that you will be able to undertake this expedition without killing yourself or anyone around you.”

“That’s all?” Potter was looking extremely suspicious.

“That’s all. However, given your particular ability for finding trouble around every corner, I would suggest getting another Professor to help you is not just wise but mandatory. 

Please take the Professor who will be assisting you along for your training week so that you can both learn together.” 

“Who will that be? Remus?” Potter looking slightly green for a moment. “You?”

“Good grief, Potter, what on earth makes you think I have any desire to traipse around the countryside with you trying to stop you from getting killed?” Severus shook his head at   
the other man’s sheer idiocy.

“Having said that, I think I should decide on the best person for the job - someone suitably trustworthy who can keep you out of the grip of impending doom, which will doubtless follow you on your ill-advised excursion.” 

Lupin indeed, thought Severus. As if he would let Potter and his Gryffindor wolf gallivant around the countryside together. Knowing Potter’s luck he would plan the camping trip during a full moon and get himself mauled by his own colleague and friend quicker than you could say ‘please save me again, Severus.’  
With a wave of his hand, Snape indicated that Potter was now dismissed. The Boy Who Lived to Annoy Severus looked as though he didn’t want to leave without asking more questions, but eventually he turned with a shrug and left Severus to his own devices. 

“What are you up to?”

The sleeping portrait of Dumbledore had apparently not been sleeping at all. The wizard’s eyes were wide open and twinkling at his former Potions Master, clearly suspecting a cunning plan was afoot. Severus merely smirked and scribbling on a piece of parchment he gestured for his owl to come and collect the piece of paper and the dog eared leaflet which Potter had left behind.

“Take this to Malfoy Manor, AK.”

He watched the owl leave through the window and smiled to himself. This would allow him to kill two birds with one stone. Annoy Potter, which was one of his preferred activities since the man seemed to have become part of his life permanently and call in a debt owed to him by his godson, who really should be more careful about the kinds of bets he made with a fellow Slytherin. Severus would have chuckled, but not being one for gauche displays of humour he settled on a self-satisfied smirk as he anticipated what Potter’s reaction would be when he was introduced to the new Hogwarts Potions Master and fellow happy camper. 

OoooOOoooO

Harry was squirming uncomfortably in his seat. The term had come to an end and most of the students had returned home to their families. The Hogwarts teaching staff had congregated with a bottle of firewhiskey, toasting the end of another successful term, continuing a tradition which had begun after the defeat of Voldemort. Although he was not a sociable man, the Headmaster seemed to feel that an empty school was something which ought to be celebrated. 

There was nothing unusual about the drinks, Harry had attended a couple of similar events when he had started working at Hogwarts the previous year, but observing Snape was making Harry feel very uncomfortable. After years of studying and watching the man, Harry had developed a keen sense for Snape’s general demeanour and he was feeling more than a little nervous about the way the man’s lips kept quirking up at the corners almost as if he was trying not to smile at a delightful little secret.   
Harry knew Snape well enough by now to appreciate that a smiling Snape could mean only one thing. Trouble. A fractious friendship of sorts had developed between the two men over the past few years, grounded in a fierce sense of loyalty which Harry felt towards Snape after learning about the other man’s role as a spy for the Order and an incredible amount of persistence on Harry’s part. 

Harry often thought he had been blessed with his own dark and snarky guardian angel during the war against Voldemort and he would always be grateful to Snape for saving his life on countless occasions. In turn, Snape had grown increasingly more…tolerant of Harry and had not hesitated in offering Harry a position as DADA Professor when Harry had expressed his own interest in teaching. Well, he hadn’t hesitated all that much…

“Welcome, everyone.” 

There was a clink, clink of glasses as Harry observed Snape rising to his feet. Something was definitely going on. Severus Snape did not make speeches at drinks events. He sat in the corner and scowled at people when they looked like they were having too much fun.

“I wanted to take this opportunity to talk about a new project which Potter is going to be developing this year. Along with another one of our very own Professors, Potter is going to spearhead the efforts by the Ministry for Magic to integrate wizarding children with Muggle society by involving the Hogwarts students in something called the Duke of Edinburgh Award scheme.” 

Something was definitely going on, thought Harry, as Snape explained the essence of the scheme to an interested and slightly inebriated audience of Hogwarts staff. Snape paused in his explanations and took a sip of his drink. Harry narrowed his eyes. The bastard was definitely up to something. For Snape he looked positively jolly.

“I am sure you are all wondering who the Professor will be who has found himself in the happy position of being able to spend a whole week alone with the Saviour of our wizarding world, foraging for food and picking spiders out of one another’s hair.”

A couple of staff members laughed at this, including Remus, Harry noticed, which gave him pause to scowl around at his colleagues and so–called friends. 

“This brings me onto my next piece of news. As you know I am having some difficulty teaching Potions even on a part time basis, given my responsibilities as Headmaster and I thought it would be best to hire a permanent staff member for this role. He will be a familiar face to all of you and likely needs no introduction, but I am pleased to say he will be joining us this evening.” 

Snape was definitely smirking and he looked straight at Harry. 

“He has also kindly agreed to support Potter in his little project to try to make sure he doesn’t get himself or anyone else killed. I expect the two Professors to work closely together to promote integration into Muggle society and inter-house unity here at Hogwarts.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed at the gleeful looking Snape and he furrowed his brow. Before he could raise his voice to ask when Snape was going to give them all the bloody information he was obviously dying to reveal, the door to the staff quarters slammed open and the assembled staff turned around to investigate the source of the sound.

Standing in the doorway wearing the most expensive, well cut dress robes Harry had ever seen was Draco Malfoy. Harry’s mouth went dry. Although he had seen Malfoy a number of times since the Final Battle, the schoolboy rivalry between the two continued apace. Most of their adult conversations ended in heated bickering or worse, such as the time at the annual Ministry Yule Ball which had ended with them rolling around on the floor together in an out and out brawl. Unfortunately for Harry as a gay man who was…well…breathing, it hadn’t escaped his notice that Draco Malfoy was probably the hottest wizard alive.

“Wonderful. Just in time, Draco. All, allow me to introduce our new Potions Master, Mr. Draco Malfoy.” Snape was rubbing his hands together, clearly enjoying the fact that he had just lit a match and was now planning to settle back and watch the explosion.

“Good gods Potter, is that your real hair? I can only assume that you haven’t managed to get a haircut since the Yule Ball.”

“Shut it, Malfoy! Just because you parade around like something from Death Eaters Vogue, it doesn’t mean we all have to be so flashy.” 

Harry tried to sneer the word but he should have known better than to try to out-sneer a Malfoy. “You’re going to be teaching here?”

“It appears so, doesn’t it? I must confess to expressing equal astonishment when I found out that you had somehow managed to wangle a Professorship- -”

“- -he said ‘you let Potter take up a teaching role? Are you a complete lunatic? The only thing Potter should be teaching at Hogwarts is how to dress like you get all your clothes   
from donations to the poor…’” Snape interjected gleefully. 

Harry sputtered into his drink and was about to leap to his own defence when Malfoy continued. 

“I can only suggest it is a rather happy coincidence that your teaching Defence coincides with there being very little left to defend against.” 

“And what are you going to teach, Malfoy, how to kiss Snape’s arse or how to be a total prat?”

“Jealousy is very unbecoming Potter, you really should put you schoolboy crush on me to one side so that we can both behave like professionals around the children.”

Harry was apoplectic with rage and he wanted to reach over to Malfoy’s scrawny neck and throttle him with his bare hands. He felt that familiar fury which he always felt around Malfoy coil in his stomach. 

“I did not have a bloody crush on you, Malfoy you complete and utter arse. Even if I did, I doubt you would have noticed given the amount of time you spent kissing Voldemort’s feet and staring at yourself in the mirror, ‘Oh, please Dark Lord Voldemort, can’t you do the Dark Mark in silver, it would look so delightful with my poncy hair.’”

“And you were so much better, Potter? ‘Oh, I’m Harry Potter, I’m very, very straight and in love with a cross between my male friend and my mother and no, I absolutely don’t check out Draco’s arse after playing Slytherin at Quidditch--”

“As if I’d ever want to check out your arse Malfoy, Merlin knows where it’s been--”

“—At least it’s been somewhere unlike your repressed virgin arse, Potter--”

“Just shut it, Malfoy!”

Snape held his hand up to interject, looking hugely satisfied. “Now, gentlemen. There’s no need to behave like children. You do have to spend a week sharing a tent together after all, so you might as well learn to get along.”

“Snape! You can’t be serious? We’ll bloody kill each other.”

“Oh, I am perfectly serious, Potter. If you care to remember the success of your little project depends on the ability to show me that you are capable of not killing, maiming or psychologically damaging those who I entrust to your charge.”

Harry was going to kill Snape. He looked at Malfoy who was looking Harry up down with more than a small measure of disdain. 

“Bloody hell. Why on earth would you agree to this, Malfoy?”

“I lost a bet. Hello, Severus.”

Malfoy had stopped looking at Harry as if he had stepped in something unsavoury and was now focusing directly on Snape, beaming in a way Harry had never seen Draco Malfoy smile before, offering one slim white hand out, and raking his icy blonde hair out his eyes with the other. 

Harry felt his traitorous body respond to the sheer brilliance of Malfoy’s smile. For a complete prat, Malfoy really was too good looking for his own good. 

“Draco.” Snape inclined his head just a touch and accepted the proffered hand with something that almost resembled a genuine smile.

“I suppose if we are going to be colleagues, Potter, we may as well be adult about it.”

For the second time in his life, Harry Potter found himself on the receiving end of a slim, white, Malfoy hand, offered for the shaking. Harry noticed that the broad, easy smile which Malfoy had bestowed on Snape was now more of a half-hearted grimace as he turned back to Harry. 

“Well I suppose I have to welcome you to the team, Malfoy.” Harry begrudgingly grasped Malfoy’s hand and shook it, trying to ignore the thrill that shot through him at the feel of Malfoy’s cool hand in his own. Those flint grey eyes trained on Harry, flashing with something which could have been humour or challenge. Harry felt sure that Malfoy had let his hand linger on Harry’s longer than was strictly necessary but he really didn’t want to process what that might mean or his own reaction to it. 

“So, Muggle camping, then Potter….is this the latest idiotic idea of yours?”

“It’s not idiotic, you arse. It’s supposed to integrate wizarding children into Muggle society.”

“Why on earth would you want to do that?” Malfoy looked positively horrified.

“Oh I don’t know, Malfoy. Possibly break down the prejudice towards Muggles and Muggle born witches and wizards that Voldemort and his Death Eater cronies propagated during the war?” 

“And a camping trip is going to achieve that?” Malfoy snickered. “Honestly, Potter. Just think, if you had worked for the Ministry during the war we could have avoided all of the unsavoury nonsense just by going on a little retreat and singing songs around the campfire. World peace, Potter style.”

“It’s a start.” Harry muttered. “At least I’m trying. Anyway, you’re supposed to become a spokesperson for this stuff so you might want to get on board.”  
Malfoy sniffed. “It’s just so utterly brainless, Potter. Camping. Without magic.” Malfoy looked aghast as if a thought had just occurred to him. “I bet our tent is going to be tiny.” 

He scowled at Harry. “Don’t get any ideas, Potter. I’m not prepared to be some sort of sex toy for the Boy Saviour. I bet you can’t wait to get me alone.”

“Oh get over yourself, Malfoy. I would rather have sex with a sheep than go anywhere near your pale white arse. I have plenty of offers without needing to resort to getting my kicks from a Death Eater playboy with stupid hair.” It wasn’t strictly true, but Harry was hopping mad and Malfoy was such an utter brat sometimes. 

Snape watched the interaction between the two men with some delight. He really was an evil bastard, thought Harry. No wonder Voldemort had been fooled by the man for so many years. Bloody Snape.

“Well I think this is all going to work out rather nicely. Have a wonderful week, gentlemen, and don’t forget I shall be expecting a log from each of you recording your experiences so that I can make my final decision.”

With that Snape wandered off, leaving the two men to stare at each other, frowning. 

“Well this is going to be fun.” 

“Quite.”

DAY 1 – MONDAY

“Please tell me you know how to put that contraption up, Potter.”

They had arrived on the campsite about an hour ago. It was suspiciously empty save for a few stray sheep. Harry had been grappling with the tent since they had arrived, while Malfoy had watched, and commented, a lot. 

“It’s a tent, Malfoy, how hard can it be?”

“You can’t just keep staring at it. I think you have to do something.”

“I know that, Malfoy. Merlin, you’re annoying. I’m reading the step by step guide.”

Malfoy was peering over Harry’s shoulder, trying to get a look at the instructions. “What does it say?”

Harry gritted his teeth and tried not to notice the fact that Malfoy’s cologne smelt absolutely incredible. “They say you put that pole into there…then that one…are you going to   
help me or just stand there, watching me?”

“I’m not watching you per se, Potter. I’m just enjoying this display of utter ineptitude. I am astonished you don’t know what to do being such a fan of camping and an expert on all things Muggle.”

“Just bloody hold this, alright.”

“Honestly, Potter, it’s sheer good fortune that you appear to have the luck of the Irish on your side. Imagine if the Dark Lord had known he could have been conquering the wizarding world without interference from Dumbledore’s Army simply by taking away your wands and leaving you in a dark room somewhere to baffle over some Muggle camping equipment.”

“Malfoy…”

Harry gritted his teeth again and pushed his hair out of his face. He was already sweating from the exertion of trying to fix together some metal poles which didn’t seem to form any sort of tent-like shape. He and Malfoy had bickered all the way to the campsite and had got lost on more than one occasion, trying to find their way from the train station without Apparition or a Portkey to assist. 

Harry was ready to kick something. Probably Malfoy. 

“Why don’t you help me Malfoy, instead of just standing around making smart comments and looking pretty?”

“Think I’m pretty do you, Potter?” 

Wisely Malfoy decided to let this one drop as Harry’s hands curled into fists by his side and he felt his anger simmer through him. Malfoy plucked the instructions from Harry’s hands, and Harry willed himself not to inhale as he caught the scent of Malfoy’s cologne again. God, he needed to get out more.

“I thought you were good at this stuff anyway, Potter? Saviour of the Wizarding World, friend to hippogriffs, Muggles, half-giants and all that - wasn’t this little project all your idea in the first place?” Malfoy was contemplating the instructions and began undoing all of the work Harry had already done. “This doesn’t look so hard, Potter. You just need to approach it differently. Like this…”

“It’s not as easy as it looks.” Sitting back for a moment on his heels, Harry watched Malfoy working on the tent. He seemed to be doing a surprisingly good job for a poncy aristocratic arsehole. 

Harry was so busy admiring…no, observing Malfoy making quick work of the tent that when Malfoy turned around he caught Harry mid-gaze, staring open mouthed at the sight of the standoffish Malfoy erecting a Muggle tent like it was child’s play. Malfoy smirked, cocking an eyebrow in Harry’s direction.

“See something you like, Potter?”

“Hardly, Malfoy. Get a grip.”

Harry felt the blush rise in his cheeks and caught a flicker of what looked like surprise in Malfoy’s eyes, followed by something else until the gaze returned to the normal, amused look which Malfoy always seemed to have now when he looked at Harry. 

Even Malfoy’s Muggle camping clothes appeared to be designer. He wore light coloured jeans which fit snugly around his lithe frame and instead of the comfortable Converse trainers that Harry favoured Malfoy had paired his jeans with some sort of black leather biking boots that Harry could have sworn had a snake somewhere on the buckles. He wore a tight black t-shirt which showed off arms which, although still slim, had gained more definition since their Hogwarts days and he had been wearing an expensive looking leather jacket, which was now discarded on the warm grass next to Harry. As much as Harry hated to admit it, Malfoy did look good. And the smell of his cologne was doing all sorts of things to Harry that he didn’t even want to think about at the moment. 

“Looks good.” 

Willing his traitorous mind to get the hell out of Malfoy fantasyland, Harry nodded at the tent which now actually looked like a proper tent which they could sleep in. It was a little lopsided but it would do and to be fair to Malfoy it looked a hell of a lot better than Harry’s own attempt.

“Merlin, it’s small. Isn’t this supposed to be a tent for four people?”

Malfoy’s blonde head had disappeared into the tent and Harry was faced with a denim clad arse wiggling in his direction, as Malfoy investigated further.

“Budge out of the way, Malfoy, let me see.”

Harry poked his head into the tent, as Malfoy disappeared inside with their sleeping bags and roll mats. Malfoy began making up two beds which looked as though they were going to be rather close together, Harry thought. He pushed a number of images of a sleeping Malfoy spooned up against him during the night from his mind and tried to focus on what Malfoy was saying.

“Cosy. You’d better not snore, Potter.”

“I don’t snore.” He probably did. Harry had never been in a position where anyone could tell him whether he snored or not. He bet Malfoy didn’t snore. He probably wore a bloody eye mask and plucked his eyebrows before bedtime.

The look in Malfoy’s eyes was positively filthy as he patted Harry’s rather worn sleeping bag which he had laid out next to his own, Slytherin green, five seasons number. 

“Well, are you going to come in, Potter? Try out our new tent?” Pulling a couple of flat packages from his bag he began to blow up a couple of air pillows as his legs crossed over at the ankles and he continued to watch Harry with those amused grey eyes.

“Are you flirting with me, Malfoy?”

Malfoy’s eyes flickered with something which Harry couldn’t quite gauge as he let out a delighted laugh.

“No, Potter, I’m not flirting…not really. Would you like me to be?”

“No, I bloody well wouldn’t.” 

Harry knew all about Malfoy’s reputation as the gay pin up for the discerning wizard. Malfoy appeared in the gossip pages of Witches Weekly and the Daily Prophet almost as often as Harry did. Unfortunately for Harry, while he was typically pictured shopping for meals for one or drinking pints with Ron, Malfoy was usually on the arm of a semi-famous celebrity wizard, coming out of the best restaurants and the most expensive bars or surrounded by designer clad friends after an exclusive party which had run into the early hours of the morning. He always looked impeccable.

Harry had ventured into the tent now and was sitting on his sleeping bag. He wriggled around a little bit. It didn’t feel very comfortable. He bet Malfoy had made sure he was sleeping on a couple of rocks. That would be just typical. 

“What do we do now, Potter?”

“I don’t know, Malfoy.”

“Well this was your brilliant idea. What would we be doing if the students were here?”

“Well...they walk and stuff. They have to split into groups and do a certain number of miles every day. I guess we would walk the same route and keep an eye on them at different check points.”

“Walk, then?”

“Not today, it’s too late now. It’s getting dark. We should walk tomorrow.”

“And tonight?”

“I don’t bloody know, Malfoy.”

“Hmmm. Honestly, Potter, it’s a good job I’m here. You would be completely lost without me.” Malfoy reached into his rucksack and pulled out a pack of cards and a black box.  
Harry frowned at the box as if he expected Malfoy to introduce him to some sort of dark artefact from the Malfoy vault. “What’s in the box, Malfoy? You know we can’t use magic?”

“Have you ever travelled anywhere at all Potter? It’s a chess set-”

“-but we can’t- -”

“A Muggle chess set, Potter.”

“M’rubbish at chess.”

“Cards then. Perhaps a little wager to make things more interesting?” Malfoy was shuffling the cards like a Vegas croupier, keeping his eyes trained on Harry as he did so, the beginnings of a smirk on his face as Harry watched the shuffling process open mouthed.

“I’ll be the bank.”

“Well that’s certainly appropriate. What are we playing?”

“Just a spot of Blackjack, Potter. I can show you how to play. It’s easy. Shall we say ten galleons minimum bet?”

“Ten galleons? Bloody hell, Malfoy. I don’t even know how to play. And I bet you cheat.”

“What, because I’m a Slytherin? As the spokesperson for house unity Professor Potter, you really should try to keep your obvious prejudice to yourself.”

“Oh, you’re a fine one to lecture about prejudice, Malfoy.”

Both men looked at Malfoy’s forearm, where the Dark Mark leered at them in the dim light of tent. Although it had noticeably faded following the end of the war, the black skull was still clearly visible against Malfoy’s pale skin. 

Harry knew he had probably overstepped the mark somewhat. Malfoy’s young age and the fact that he had never cast the killing curse combined with testimony from Snape, a much revered veteran of the war, had allowed Malfoy to come out of the war relatively unscathed. By becoming something of a high society playboy and thanks to his huge involvement in charitable activities, Malfoy had managed to turn his family name around in the minds of the wizarding public for the next generation of Malfoys.

Harry had heard rumours about Malfoy’s parents, Narcissa the ‘madwoman in the attic’ of Malfoy Manor and had heard from Ron that Lucius Malfoy was wasting away in Azkaban, totally crazy. He knew from their various run-ins post-Hogwarts that Malfoy no longer talked like a man who was full of Pureblood ideals, but Harry and Malfoy still avoided talking about anything serious when they ran into each other. Besides, they were usually too busy bickering to talk politics.

“I’m sorry, that was unfair.”

“No. It’s fine. You just don’t know anything about me really Potter. What it was like. What I thought at the time. What I think now.”

“So tell me.”

“Draco snorted. “I’m not a bloody Gryffindor hero, wearing my heart on my sleeve.”

“Don’t presume that everything about me is public knowledge, Malfoy. You don’t know me any better than I know you.”

Draco contemplated Harry for a moment and then looked away. “I know more than you think. I watched you, you know…at school.”

“Who was the one with the schoolboy crush then, Malfoy?” Harry tried to lighten the mood and was surprised when Malfoy’s face pulled into something of a grimace. Did that mean…? Harry coughed and changed tack. “So what do you think you know?”

Malfoy shrugged. “You love pumpkin juice. You eat every meal like you think it’s going to be your last. You used to get angry with the Weasel a hell of a lot and behaved like a real girl about it. And the gay thing? Seriously Potter, I could have pointed that out to you in your third year.” Malfoy looked as if the next bit was going to make him physically sick. “And you’re brave, I suppose. Stupid, reckless and bird brained, but brave.”

“How the hell could you have known I was gay? Even I didn’t know that at Hogwarts. I didn’t have a clue!” That wasn’t strictly true, but Harry didn’t want to give Malfoy any satisfaction.

Malfoy laughed. “Of course you’re gay, Potter. You were just never…involved in that stuff at school. A couple of snogs with girls who spend half their time in Quidditch gear hardly made you a pin up for the typical heterosexual teenager.”

Harry huffed. “Whatever, Malfoy. If it hadn’t escaped your notice I was busy trying to kill a Dark Lord. Save the world and all that. I didn’t exactly have time to try to get laid.”

“Oh come off it, Potter. Everyone had time for that. Even Snape found time to get some action.” Malfoy wiggled his eyebrows lewdly.

“Gross, Malfoy. I bet you loved that. I always knew there was a reason you got such good marks in Potions.”

“Good grief, Potter, not me! Your werewolf pal, Lupin.”

“No way, Malfoy…Merlin, don’t say things like that.”

Malfoy was laughing and eyeing Harry curiously. “You never knew? The werewolf was completely in love with your mutt of a Godfather of course, but…well…needs must and Sev and he came to an understanding of sorts after Black’s death.”

The thought of Sirius made Harry’s stomach clench and he felt unbelievably sad all of a sudden. He knew Sirius and Remus were involved, it would have been impossible to miss. He couldn’t believe that Lupin and Snape, though…

“Do you think they still…?” The thought of Snape having sex was not something Harry wanted to spend too much time dwelling on and he shook his head trying to dislodge the mental images.

“I don’t know, Potter. I don’t see why not.” Malfoy was watching him carefully. “I am sorry about Black. That must have been…”

“Shit. It was shit.” Harry raked a hand through his hair and shrugged. “Thanks though. We all lost people.”

“We did.” That was all Malfoy obviously wanted to say on that particular topic and he started grinning at Harry again. “As I was saying, it was hardly a surprise to me when I found   
out you were gay. I’m just sorry you spent so much time trying to half-heartedly bat for the other team.” 

Harry scowled at Malfoy. “Whatever, Malfoy. Even Ron and Hermione were shocked.”

Malfoy laughed “Are you sure, Potter?”

Harry frowned. Come to think of it, Hermione hadn’t seemed that shocked after all. “Ron was surprised.” 

“Of course he was, because he thought you were going to marry his sister and have lots of baby Weasels. Besides-” Malfoy had continued before Harry could leap to the defence of the Weasleys. “-You stare at my arse far too much for a straight man. It takes me back to sixth year.”  
Harry forgot all about correcting Malfoy in his treatment of the Weasley family as he felt his cheeks flaming red and not for the first time he cursed his body’s inability to keep his embarrassment hidden. 

“Bloody hell, Malfoy, I have not been staring at your scrawny arse!”

“Oh, don’t be such a prude Potter. I don’t mind that you’re clearly a bit of a pervert. Besides, you haven’t been the only one doing a bit of looking.” Malfoy winked and began to shuffle the cards again. “Now - blackjack?”

With this Malfoy began explaining the rules to Harry who was still too embarrassed about the whole ‘staring at my arse’ comment to fully focus. He wasn’t a bloody pervert. Harry also wanted to know what exactly Malfoy had meant by ‘not the only one doing a bit of looking’. Had he meant to imply that he found Harry attractive? Harry found the very fact that he was thinking these kinds of thoughts about Malfoy highly disturbing and accordingly he wasn’t really concentrating when Malfoy flipped over a Jack of spades and snickered.

“What does that mean?” Harry was looking at his own cards and back at Malfoy’s Jack.

“It means, Potter, that you are screwed – and not in a good way.”

“I’m going to lose a lot of money, aren’t I?”

“Possibly even the shirt off your back.” 

Harry was uncomfortably aware of the small tent, the dying light and the fact that ever since Draco Malfoy had flung open the doors to the Hogwarts staff quarters, Harry had been unable to shake the images of an icy haired blonde writhing beneath him from his head. Malfoy was right. He was totally screwed, and not in a good way. 

OoooOOoooO

Harry groaned. “Enough, Malfoy. You win. Convincingly.” He should have known better than to gamble with a Slytherin.

Malfoy was grinning, clearly pleased with his success. “I’m sure our little game has barely made a dent in the Potter fortune.”

“How do you know how to play Muggle cards, anyway?” Harry was eyeing Malfoy curiously. 

Malfoy shrugged. “I travel, Potter and not always by Portkey, Apparition or Floo.” He smiled wryly. “I stay at the best hotels and I can assure you the treatment you get at a Muggle hotel as a wealthy patron as opposed to a former Death Eater in the wizarding world differs drastically. I go to Casinos sometimes and I gamble. Usually poker, but blackjack has its place. Some of us grew out of Exploding Snap when we left first year.”

“You’re full of surprises.” Harry laughed as Malfoy smiled at him, one of those heart stopping smiles that he had bestowed on Snape when he arrived at Hogwarts. It made Harry feel ridiculously pleased to be the recipient of it and he coughed, lowering his eyes from Malfoy’s intense gaze, trying to fight the blush that was rising to his cheeks. 

“It’s getting dark. We should light the fire, I guess. Think about cooking some food.”

“Sounds positively delightful. I do hope you had the foresight to bring some decent food and booze with you.”

“I have beers. Some whiskey.” Harry was suddenly excited, reaching into his rucksack and brandishing a foil packet which Malfoy glared at disdainfully. “I also picked up some of this cool army food. It’s really light so you can carry loads in your rucksack, without it being too heavy. They have some great flavours. Lamb hotpot, mashed potato, beef stew. All boil in a bag stuff, so it’s really easy.”

“Good grief.” Malfoy opened up his rucksack and pulled out some bottles of what appeared to be very expensive red wine, and reached behind him for a cooler pack containing some plastic boxes filled with delicious looking food. 

“What’s all that?”

“Camping food, Malfoy-style. I simply refuse to eat anything that involves boiling freeze dried items in bags. We are camping, Potter, not fighting a bloody war. Let’s make the best of it.”

“The Malfoy house elves have been busy then?”

“It may surprise you to learn that I actually made this myself. I quite enjoy cooking. I even made it without magic in case it offended your Gryffindor notion of doing things properly.”

Harry found himself surprised yet again by Malfoy’s confession. It was hard to picture Malfoy slaving over a hot stove in an apron. He snickered at the mental image until he noticed his imaginary apron-clad Malfoy was otherwise completely butt naked and was now wiggling a perfectly gorgeous naked arse in his direction. Harry shook his head to clear the….disturbing…image and cleared his throat.

“That stuff won’t last overnight, Malfoy, and you know we can’t use magic to keep it cool…?”

“It’s arctic outside Potter. If we use the cooler and keep the food outdoors it should last for tonight and tomorrow.”

“And then what?”

“Then we go fishing or find ourselves a good pub.”

“We’re not allowed to get pub food…”

“Then we fish. Goodness, Potter, I thought this was your area of expertise. I had assumed you knew how to catch a bloody fish, at the very least.” The baffled look on Harry’s face made it quite clear he didn’t have a clue and Malfoy rolled his eyes. “It seems as though I will have to hold your hand through every aspect of this bird brained expedition.”  
Harry wanted to argue but he couldn’t. Malfoy’s food looked good and the grumbling in his stomach had alerted him to how hungry he was. He turned to look at Malfoy, who had his head cocked to one side examining the label on one of his bottles of wine, hair falling over his eyes. As if he knew he was being stared at, Malfoy slowly raised his head until he met Harry’s gaze. When he felt Malfoy’s breath lightly caressing his cheek, Harry released how close they were sitting and wanted to jump away but those grey eyes, always so amused, had pinned him to the spot.

“Er, Malfoy”

“Hmmm?”

“I don’t suppose you know how to light a fire without magic?”

DAY 2 – TUESDAY

“Merlin, I feel like shit. Comfortable, Potter?” 

Malfoy was stretching out, like a giant cat, his sleeping bag pulled up to his neck. He sounded amused.

Harry’s mouth felt furry and his head felt fuzzy as he looked up sleepily. His back hurt. He was definitely sleeping on at least two reasonably sized rocks. Shit! Harry also seemed to have snuggled up to Malfoy during the night and he moved away as quickly as possible. 

“I’m going to shower.”

“Take your time.” 

Malfoy yawned again, stretching his arms out over his head. Harry gulped. Pulling a few toiletries and an old towel which was now more grey than white out of his bag he stumbled out of the tent into the morning sunlight and made his way to the shower.

At least the campsite had a proper shower and toilet. Harry had deliberately chosen a campsite with proper running water and a shower block, not really sure if he could cope with a long drop and heating their own water.

The one shower and couple of toilets weren’t exactly full of marble and gilt taps, as they were situated in a dark, cold, barn, but they were functioning perfectly well. As the cold water pounded over Harry’s head he began to feel a bit more human. Eating and sleeping with Malfoy for the entire day in such close proximity had been playing havoc with his hormones and he had spent most of the night restless, horny and sleeping fitfully with his dreams disturbed by images of Malfoy, young and vulnerable, smirking at Harry from his broom in his Slytherin Quidditch team colours, then older - laughing and smiling at a celebrity wizard on the front page of the Prophet. Harry groaned. He seriously needed to focus on the task at hand and stop letting himself get so distracted.

Unfortunately just thinking about Malfoy had made him hard and Harry grimaced. He couldn’t wank over Malfoy for fucks sake…could he? They were two gay men thrown together in isolated circumstances after all. It didn’t have to mean anything. It was just a fantasy. As much as Harry tried to think about someone else, anyone else, he kept coming back to icy blonde hair and grey eyes which taunted him. Groaning, Harry decided to just give in to his fantasies, his movements becoming more frantic as the water coursed down his back, closing his eyes and feeling that familiar heat coil in his stomach.

“Potter!”

“Merlin! Fuck, Malfoy, what the--!” it was too late, Harry was coming and Malfoy was standing just outside the door to the shower. Harry thanked his lucky stars that the showers had doors and that he had been wise enough to make sure the door to his shower cubicle was properly shut.

“What’s taking so long? I want a shower. I feel hideous.”

“It’s all yours, Malfoy.” Wrapping a towel around his waist and making sure there was no evidence of his earlier activities, Harry opened the door to the cubicle, fighting the blush that rose to his cheeks as he saw Malfoy standing there quizzically, eyebrow cocked wearing only low slung black satin pyjama bottoms. 

“Satin, Malfoy? Really? You do know we’re camping for fucks sake?”

Malfoy was smirking at Harry, who was feeling very naked all of a sudden. “Yes, but it never hurts to look your best, Potter. Prepare for any eventuality. I am alone in the countryside with a passably attractive gay man, after all.”

“Oh bloody hell. I don’t care, just get on with it and let’s get out of here for the day.”

“Sure.” Malfoy was scrunching his nose up as he poked his head inside the shower, looking around for spiders and other bugs. “I’ll be as quick as I can. No need to be such a wanker about it, Harry.” With a final smirk at Harry leaving him in no doubt that Malfoy knew exactly what had been keeping him the blonde head disappeared into the shower and   
after a moment the water started running. Harry resisted the urge to open the door and slam Malfoy against the wall and start kissing the very life out of him and began an uncomfortable walk back to the tent. Stupid bloody Malfoy and his satin.

It was only after he got back to the tent that Harry thought about the three deep scars on Malfoy’s chest and wondered what might have caused them. He pulled on some fresh clothes, his mind elsewhere, only turning when a blonde head poked into the tent, damp and smelling of some sort of citrus shampoo. Harry cursed the fact that Malfoy used products which made him smell like something Harry wanted to eat. He was in jogging bottoms now, his towel around his neck and his pyjamas and wash bag in one hand, but Malfoy’s chest was still bare and Harry could clearly see the three, deep scars.

“What caused the scars, Malfoy?” Harry gestured to Malfoy’s chest. It seemed odd to see blemishes on skin which was so perfect everywhere else. They looked as if whatever had caused them had been painful. As Harry gazed at Malfoy and watched his reaction, from shocked, to sheepish, looking away from Harry as if he wanted to be somewhere else, Harry felt the blood rush to his head and he could hear his heart pounding in his ears. It couldn’t have been…Harry couldn’t have caused…

“What caused the fucking scars, Malfoy?” Malfoy was by his backpack, studiously avoiding Harry’s gaze as Harry reached over to him, grabbing his bare arms hard in his hands, his knuckles white.

“You were there. You should remember.” Malfoy spoke quietly and Harry felt warm, hot, too hot and utterly wretched. Shaking Malfoy from his grasp and practically flinging the other man onto the floor of the tent, Harry got out of the too-small space, yanking his shoes on and walked away to a large tree. He rested a trembling hand against the bark and retched. There was nothing in his stomach to bring up, but he couldn’t stop retching and he felt tears pricking the backs of his eyes. Fuck! 

“Potter.” Malfoy had come up behind him and was patting his back. “Turn the fuck around, Potter. Look at me.” 

Harry turned. Malfoy was standing there, still bare-chested, watching Harry awkwardly. The silence stretched between them as Harry allowed his eyes to rove over Malfoy’s chest.

“Gods, Malfoy…” 

There, against soft pale skin, stood three angry scars, the permanent reminder of a schoolboy rivalry which had consumed Harry in his sixth year and which only ended following the death of a madman. Harry couldn’t believe that he had done this to someone, that he had scarred Draco Malfoy permanently in the same way Harry wore the scar of Voldemort. Every time Malfoy dressed, looked in the mirror, made love, sunbathed, he would be reminded of that argument, thinking that Harry had hated him enough to hurt him in that way.

“Potter, it’s fine…”

Harry had reached a trembling hand out and was tracing the line of the scars. Malfoy was biting his lip, his eyes falling closed. Harry thought he could see Malfoy’s hands tremble a little as he reached up to still Harry’s own hand. 

“I just….I never meant…”

“I know.” 

Malfoy had captured Harry’s hand now and opened his eyes, looking into Harry’s own. He moved closer to Harry until he was crowding him against the rough, uneven bark.  
“Gods, Malfoy, how can you say it’s alright? Look what I did!” It had been a long time since Harry had felt this utterly wretched. He felt like he wanted to cry, looking at the   
impeccable Draco Malfoy scarred for life at his own hand.

Malfoy was holding out an arm, forcing Harry to look away from his chest to the ugly blemish of the Dark Mark.

“Do you know what this does to me, Potter?” He was practically spitting out the words. “This reminds me every day that I was young and stupid enough to be seduced by power and worship a maniac and a killer. These…” he held up his hand to Harry’s face and Harry could see calluses from years of playing Quidditch, which Malfoy had done semi-professionally for a couple of years after leaving Hogwarts. “These remind me that I have a talent.” He smirked. “That I may even be a better seeker than Harry bloody Potter.”  
“This cut, right here--” Malfoy was showing Harry a scar which traced down his forefinger, “—I got this when I was training to be a Potions Master. This reminds me of doing something I love. It reminds me that I’m bloody brilliant-” Malfoy tossed his hair and smirked. “It reminds me that one day, with Sev’s help we could use potions to find a cure for lycanthropy.”

Malfoy’s blonde hair framed his face, his sculpted features, as he pulled at a lock of his hair and gestured to his face. “This face…my looks…remind me every day that I am a Malfoy, the only Malfoy heir. I am my father’s son, and whatever he might have done, being his son means everything to me.”

His hand stilled, clutching Harry’s tightly in his own against the scars so Harry could feel the uneven skin between his splayed fingers. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Malfoy. “These scars remind me that I was planning to kill a man when I was nothing more than a child. They remind me of a stupid, foolhardy, handsome Gryffindor who was only a child but yet ten times the man I was. They remind me of two young boys fighting a war neither really wanted to fight. They remind me of two people, Severus Snape and Harry Potter, both of whom risked their own lives to save mine.” 

Harry’s breath caught as Malfoy released his hand and he left his hand on Malfoy’s chest, warm against the cool skin. Malfoy reached up to brush Harry’s hair from his forehead and he traced the outline of the lightning bolt scar with one thin finger. “This scar defines you, Potter.”

Harry began to protest and Malfoy pressed a finger to his mouth, stilling his words. 

“You may not want it to, but it does. It’s part of you. Always will be. Just as all of this--” Malfoy gestured with a hand up and down a body. “--the scars, the mistakes, the bloody Dark Mark…it’s who I am. I’m Draco Malfoy, Potter. Draco Fucking Malfoy. No one ever gets to take that from me.”

“Draco…” Harry breathed out, unable to look away from Malfoy’s grey eyes, not cold, not angry. Not anymore. “Malfoy…I don’t…”

Harry didn’t know what to say in a moment where words just wouldn’t be enough and so he let the silence stretch out between them as his face moved closer to Malfoy, his hand still splayed across Malfoy’s bare, scarred chest, the other starting to card through the blonde hair, still slightly damp, which felt silky beneath his fingers. Before he could move away, decide to do something different, Harry let his lips brush against Malfoys softly, before drawing back. 

Malfoy exhaled the sound loud above the pounding of Harry’s heart in his ears and the silence of the countryside. “Harry…”

Harry wanted to bundle this Malfoy into his arms and hold him as close as he could, soothing the scars on his chest and keeping him safe. He wanted to promise he would never hurt him again. He wanted to use his lips to find every area of Malfoy’s body which would elicit any pleasure from the irritating prat and spend the rest of his life apologising for the violence, the hatred and the scars. He did none of those things. Instead he coughed and leant back against the tree, feeling awkward. 

Malfoy’s eyes flickered open and Harry noticed that Malfoy’s neck and chest looked a little flush and his pale cheeks were tinged with a soft pink. “It’s damn cold outside, Potter. I’m going to put some clothes on.” He turned on heel, going back to the tent, leaving Harry leaning back against the tree feeling his legs threaten to buckle as he raised a hand to his lips feeling the burn that Malfoy’s lips had left behind. 

OoooOOoooO  
“Did you kiss me earlier, Potter?”

Harry glared studiously at his feet, scuffed hiking boots and frayed jeans and determined not to look at Malfoy. 

“Shut up, Malfoy.” 

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off me. I am rather good looking.” Malfoy was practically crowing with delight.

“You’re the one that was admitting the school boy crush earlier, Malfoy. At least I didn’t wank myself silly in the Prefects bathroom thinking about you.”

“Not in the Prefects bathroom, no, Potter.” 

Malfoy’s tone implied he knew exactly what Harry had been doing and who he had been thinking about in the shower that morning. 

“Although who knows what might happen now we will both be Professors together and you find me so very irresistible.”

“I’m perfectly able to resist you, Malfoy. Merlin, you’re arrogant.”

Harry wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to be able to resist Malfoy though, and that was the problem. Harry wasn’t exactly sure when all the touching had started, but something had definitely shifted between him and Malfoy since their conversation by the tree that morning. When Malfoy had emerged from the tent fully clothed he had complained about Harry’s hair again, brushing it to one side with his long, slim fingers as he had done so when he had been tracing a line along Harry’s scar. Harry had handed Malfoy a water bottle, brushing his hand as he did so. Malfoy had responded by leaning over Harry’s shoulder as they studied the map, planning their route for the day, his breath tickling Harry’s ear until Harry might as well have been reading ancient Greek for all of the attention was paying to the map.

They had been walking for just over two miles, making sure that they were well able to read a Muggle map and follow a designated route as they would need to supervise the students on their own walks. As usual they had bickered almost continuously but Harry was starting to feel uncomfortable as the tension from their earlier chaste kiss crackled between them. They could get lost on the hillsides for all Harry cared he just knew he wouldn’t be able to get through the day without feeling Malfoy’s lips on his again.

“It hasn’t been so bad, so far.” Harry was feeling relatively upbeat as they entered the next field which was filled with cows. 

“Not so bad!? I hate camping, Potter. I hate camping, I hate walking and I fucking can’t stand farmyard animals.”

Malfoy was sneering with disgust as he wiped the heel of his wellington boot on the grass trying to remove something unsavoury, as he eyed a few cows standing relatively close to the two men with suspicion. 

“This is the route we have to take, Malfoy.” Harry gestured at the stile and the yellow arrow, indicating a public right of way. He had a compass round his neck and a map in his hands, which was covered by a plastic folder. “It’s only a couple of cows.” 

“I bloody hate cows. They’re huge.”

Harry couldn’t believe Draco Malfoy had lasted five minutes trapped in the Manor with Voldemort if he was scared of a couple of cows. At least they had served the purpose of distracting Malfoy from taunting Harry about the ill-advised kiss earlier that morning.

“I’ll protect you.” Harry grinned and slung an arm over Malfoy’s shoulder, steering him away from the cows and up the field towards the next stile which a few hundred metres away from them, taking them out of the field full of cows. 

“Very reassuring, I’m sure.” Harry noticed that Malfoy didn’t pull away and he shifted a little closer to Harry if anything, the daypacks on their backs touching.   
Harry watched Malfoy negotiate his way over the stile.

“Enjoying the view?” 

“Shut up, Malfoy.”

Harry had been enjoying the view, of course. Draco Malfoy probably had the best arse that Harry had ever seen. With his green Hunter wellington boots pulled over skinny black   
jeans and a striped rugby shirt with the collar up, Malfoy looked far too good to be hiking. When he was over the stile Harry noticed Malfoy was kicking at the ground gently and frowning.

“These boots aren’t very comfortable.”

“They’re wellingtons, Malfoy. Great for camping but not for hiking. You should have brought some proper walking shoes.” Harry gestured at his own sturdy hiking boots. 

“They look positively hideous, Potter.”

“Well I’m comfortable and looking forward to the next few hours walking.” Harry grinned at Malfoy’s scowl. “Don’t worry, Malfoy. At least you’ll look pretty.”

“Perhaps I could transfigure them into something like yours? Or maybe a quick cushioning charm?” Malfoy looked hopeful.

“No way, Malfoy. No magic, remember?”

“Killjoy.”

“Quite. Where did you get your Muggle camping gear from, anyway?” Harry had seen Malfoy in Muggle clothes before, but only ever Saville Row tailored suits. He had been amazed Malfoy even knew what a wellington boot was, let alone owned a pair.

“Oh, that.” Malfoy shrugged. “I looked at some pictures of Muggles camping at something called Glastonbury.”

“The big music festival?” Harry had always wanted to go with Ron, but Ron was surprisingly bad around Muggles and would have spent most of his time marvelling over how people got by without magic. Loudly. “Well that explains why you looked like a bloody rock star yesterday.”

Malfoy let out a squawk. “Potter, what the…?” He was holding out his hand, which now held a little water pooled just in the palm.

“Oh shit. I think it’s going to rain.” In the middle of the field the two men looked at the sky which was now covered in cloud, a deep ominous grey colour, as the first few large drops of rain began to fall. “Put this on.” Harry pulled a small bag from his backpack and pulled on his own waterproof coat.

“Pac-a-mac? What the hell is this, Potter?”

“A waterproof jacket, Malfoy, it will keep you dry. Put it on or you’ll catch your death.”

“It’s horrible. Good lord. At least it’s a good colour I suppose.” Malfoy sniffed as he pulled the navy cagoule around his body, zipping it up. “My hair!”

“Put the hood up, you poncy idiot.” Harry smiled as Malfoy, looking entirely disgruntled, pulled the hood up over his head and pulled at the toggles a little to tighten it. He looked positively crestfallen as he observed the rain begin in earnest, holding an arm out and listening to its pitter-patter on the material of the cagoule. 

“It’s just a bit of rain, Malfoy. We have that in the wizarding world too you know.”

“Of course I know, Potter, but we also have charms to keep us warm and spells to make sure the rain never actually gets us wet or makes us cold. This pac-a-mac is horribly uncivilised. Do Muggles have to wear these with suits?” 

Harry grinned at Malfoy’s horrified look. “They have umbrellas, Malfoy. Or they take cabs. If they were camping though, yes, they would wear waterproof jackets and trousers.”

“They make trousers in this material?”

Harry moved up to Malfoy who looked bloody adorable, with his navy hood up around his face, forlornly watching the rain hit his arm, full of confusion, with a little bit of icy blonde hair escaping onto his face.

“It’s just a little bit of rain.” Harry brushed the stray strand of hair from Malfoy’s face, tucking it behind Malfoy’s ear and under the hood. He smoothed the hair back under the hood, relishing the silkiness beneath his fingers.

“I don’t like the rain.” They were the same height, now Harry noticed as they stood, nose to nose, their breathing coming quicker in the rain. “Make it stop, Harry.”

Harry looked into those wide, grey eyes and marvelled at Malfoy’s chameleon like personality. From proud aristocrat to vulnerable and childish, it was like spending time with a bloody pet dragon who would be nuzzling your hand with one breath and coughing fireballs onto it with the other. 

“I could…take your mind off it.” Harry couldn’t believe how husky his voice sounded and he wanted to grab the words back as soon as they left his mouth.

And then Malfoy was breathing out “Yes…” and Harry couldn’t stop. He leaned in just that bit further and their lips were crashing together, fierce and competitive, battling for dominance. This was nothing like the soft, chaste brush of lips earlier this morning. This was years of fighting, teasing and bickering all rolled into one completely delicious kiss. Harry’s hand captured the back of Draco’s hood, slippery with the rain that had already landed. Malfoy had dropped his backpack to put on the jacket and so Harry had free access to his body, and wrapped his other arm around Malfoy’s waist and pulling him possessively closer. 

Harry opened his mouth and deepened the kiss, the rain falling more heavily, making their mouths and faces wet and cold. Harry groaned as Malfoy’s tongue met his own and he wanted to tear that bloody jacked from Malfoy’s body, push him onto the wet grass and take him right here, in the middle of the field. He could feel Malfoy, hard through his jeans and Harry moved his hands lower to Malfoy’s hips, pulling him nearer so that Malfoy could feel Harry’s answering hardness.

“Merlin, Potter…” Harry pulled away and studied Malfoy’s face which was flushed, his lips looking swollen and well kissed. They were both breathing heavily. 

“Shit!” The rain was really coming down heavily now. Harry grabbed Malfoy’s backpack up from the ground and captured his hand, beginning to run. “Come on, we need to find somewhere to shelter until this passes.” 

The two men ran through the field, towards a country lane and continued to run through the rain until they reached a small pub. 

“What is this place?” Malfoy had sidled up close to Harry, still clutching his hand as if his life depended on it, and Harry gently extricated himself from the grip.

“We have to…I don’t know how Muggles are…two men.”

“What? Oh. Really? That’s positively archaic.”

“Quite.” A surely looking barman wandered towards the bar, looking at the two men with a frown.

“What can I get you?”

“Two pints of bitter, please.” Harry tried to ignore the fact that Malfoy was pulling at his sleeve and muttering something which sounded suspiciously like ‘champagne.’

“Six pounds please gents. Any food with those?”

“Please. Could we get a menu?”

“On the table. Let me know when you’re ready to order. Fish and chips are popular and the Ploughmans is good.”

“Great, thanks.” Harry smiled his winning, boy-hero smile and the man grunted, pleased at least to have some custom. Harry shepherded Malfoy to a small table next to a roaring   
fire and the two men took off their waterproof jackets in silence, before sitting on the wooden chairs and sipping their beers without speaking. After they had taken a couple of sips, Malfoy pulled a face and Harry sighed with happiness, stretching his long legs out in front of him, relaxing back into his seat. He loved ale.

“This stuff is foul, Potter.”

“More of a cocktail fan, Malfoy?”

“Very funny. Even pumpkin juice is better than this swill.”

Harry sighed. They were obviously back to high and mighty Malfoy. He studied Malfoy’s face which was set in a frown as he eyed his pint of ale, studiously refusing to look at Harry. Harry was about to snap at Malfoy and tell him to stop sulking, when he noticed the way Malfoy’s hand trembled slightly and saw his knuckles whiten as he wrapped his hand around the glass. 

Harry thought about the scars on Malfoy’s chest and the flashes of vulnerability, the tentative admission to having had some kind of crush on Harry during their days at Hogwarts. Harry watched, really watched and saw the grey eyes flicking from the table, to the bar, to the beer and back to the table while Malfoy’s free hand played with a beer mat. Malfoy was nervous. Harry realised. He, Harry, made Draco Malfoy, playboy and socialite, nervous. He could have crowed with delight and he wanted to pull Malfoy into his arms and kiss him as if no one was watching. 

“This is cheating, you know.” Harry observed, watching carefully as Malfoy raised his eyes to Harry’s and then dropped them back to the table.

“What?”

“Being here. In a pub. On Duke of Edinburgh you can’t buy food or drinks from local shops. The whole point is to survive on what you have in your rucksack. Survival instinct and all that. One of the reasons why it would be pointless to try to do this using magic.”

“Oh. Well you did always like to break the rules, Potter.”

“And you apparently always liked to watch me, Draco.”

Malfoy’s head snapped up. “Don’t make fun of me, Potter.”

“I’m not. Why are you so nervous?”

“I’m not bloody nervous, Potter!”

“I think what happened between us back there makes you nervous.” Harry’s voice lowered as he looked around and seeing no one was looking moved his hand to Malfoy’s chin, tipping his head up so that those grey eyes were focused on his. “I think I make you nervous.” To emphasise this, Harry tapped the side of his boot against Malfoy’s leg, touching his legs lightly against Malfoy's under the table.

“Fuck you, Potter. I might have known you would be like this. Happy with your cheap little victory are you?” Malfoy practically spat out, yanking his chin out of Harry’s hand. Taking a couple of long gulps of his beer he grimaced. “This stuff is disgusting. I’m getting a glass of wine.”

Harry’s eyes followed Malfoy in shock, as the other man pushing his chair back violently and stomped off to the bar. What the hell had just happened? Harry groaned and put his head in his hands. Draco Malfoy was going to be the death of him.

OoooOOoooO

“Well that was fun.” 

They had eaten at the pub and when the rain had eased they had continued their walk, in silence. Five bloody miles and not a word passed between them, after Harry had attempted to make conversation and had been met with grunts and sneers from Malfoy. He no longer thought Draco looked cute, bedraggled in his cagoule. He wanted to bloody hex him.

“I’m going to have a shower. You should try and light the fire, Potter. Assuming you’re capable of doing so.”

“Whatever.” Harry gritted his teeth against snapping something at Malfoy, remembering that lost look he had seen earlier and willing himself to keep his temperature in check. Merlin, Malfoy was acting completely pre-menstrual.

He was poking half-heartedly at the fire with a stick, teasing the flames, when Malfoy emerged from the tent, dressed in another rugby shirt, clean jeans and his biker boots. His hair was still wet and his face looked flushed from the heat of the shower. Harry couldn’t decide if he wanted to curse him or snog his face off and scowled into the fire. The rain had made the ground damp, but the fire area was surrounded by large, flat rocks which had all but dried out in the quick spell of sunshine which had followed the rain. With a couple of blankets laid out on the rocks, they made passable seats.

Harry was surprised when Malfoy chose not to sit at the rock which he had carefully covered with a tartan blanket and moved instead, to sit next to Harry on the large flat stone, moving next to him until their knees knocked together and Harry could feel the heat of Malfoy’s thigh against his own.

“M’sorry.”

“You’re such a bloody brat, Malfoy. What the fuck was that all about?”

“I don’t like camping very much. I don’t like being cold, getting wet and sleeping on rocks…” Malfoy’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t make me nervous though, Potter.”

“Right. Well it’s not any kind of picnic for me either, Malfoy. I’m pretty crap at all of this in case you hadn’t noticed. I was really excited about doing this for Hogwarts. I want it to be a success. It would be good for the kids to do things without magic, understand Muggles and all that. I know it doesn’t matter to you, but...I didn’t think it would be this hard…”

“I get it, Potter. Really.”

“I’m confused enough about this.” Harry waved his hand, gesturing between himself and Malfoy. “I can’t cope with your bloody strops too. I feel cold as well, you know. You also put the tent up on a fucking rock pile and I had hardly any sleep last night.”

“Have a shower. You’ll feel better, trust me. I have a jumper…it’s really warm.” Malfoy stopped and smirked a bit. “And very fashionable. You should put it on when you’re done. I’ll leave it out for you in the tent. I can cook.”

“Thanks…that’s--”

“--The least I can do. Go, Potter. Enjoy.”

Harry stood and went to shower, enjoying the way the water pounded against his face and his body. He spent longer than was probably necessary, but it felt so bloody good. He wanted to wash away the knots in his shoulders and the feelings of confusion and nerves that knotted in his stomach. Sighing, he flicked off the powerful water, dried off and slipping on some flip flops headed back to the tent. As he approached he watched Malfoy for a moment, hunched over the fire, looking like a catalogue model, his pointed features highlighted by the light of the fire in the semi-darkness of the evening. Malfoy’s face was set in a slight frown as if he was thinking about something. 

The smell of the ‘Malfoy-style’ camping food was making Harry’s mouth water and his stomach growl, and he went into the tent to change, leaving his shoes outside so as not to make the inside of the tent muddy and wet. 

On his ratty sleeping bag were an off-white jumper and a pair of jeans which Harry recognised as his own, folded neatly. Harry pulled on his jeans and then fingered the jumper. It was thick, soft wool and looked handmade. He pulled it on and nestled into its warmth. The sleeves were too long for him and they fell over his hands. Merlin, the jumper was huge. It must be far too big for Malfoy. Harry ran his nose over the sleeve. Malfoy. The jumper smelled like his cologne and something else that was definitely Draco. It was fucking incredible and Harry never wanted to take it off.

After pulling on his trainers, Harry moved towards Malfoy, standing awkwardly and not sure whether to take the space next to Malfoy or to sit on the as yet unused tartan covered rock. Thinking of the jumper and the neat little pile of clothes carefully laid out in the tent, he sat next to Malfoy.

“You got my jeans out too. Thanks.”

“No problem. Any reason why you have lube in your backpack, Potter?”

“Fuck! No…Malfoy, I honestly wasn’t thinking…”

“That I was easy? Go camping, have a cup of tea, shag Malfoy, report back to Snape and that’s that?”

“No! Merlin, I never thought…Gods, I never thought anything would…I didn’t think you would be interested in anything like that. God, Malfoy, I promise. That was never on my agenda.”

“I believe you.” Malfoy spoke softly and Harry turned nervously to look at him, relieved to see that a smile was teasing at the corner of his lips. “So you really are just a bit of a wanker then, Potter?”

“Oh screw you, Malfoy you’re such a fucking brat.” 

“Do you like the jumper?” Those grey eyes turned up to Harry, whose mouth went dry at the sight of Malfoy, blonde hair framing his face as the light from the fire flickered around them, casting long, moving shadows.

“It’s great. Really comfy. Thanks.” Harry waved his arm up and down once, gesturing at the too long sleeve with his other hand. “It’s huge though, this can’t possibly fit you. I’m taller- -”

“You are bloody well not taller, Potter!” Malfoy scowled at this, then relaxed and turned back to the fire. “It’s not something I would wear out, obviously. It’s kind of a comfort blanket. It’s cosy.” At this, Malfoy gingerly nestled his head softly into the wool and Harry’s arm. With the heat of Malfoy’s leg against his and the smell of Malfoy’s shampoo so close to him, Harry could barely breathe. Just as gingerly he moved his arm a little, wrapping it around Malfoy’s waist, allowing him to nestle against Harry properly. He felt like he was fifteen again, not an adult who had saved the world and had numerous trysts with different men since leaving Hogwarts.

With a sigh of contentment Malfoy leaned fully into Harry. “We should eat.”

“Sure.” Malfoy moved away and began to serve up the food, handing Harry a plate laden with stew which smelled delicious and he tucked in with gusto as Malfoy watched him, amused.

“You eat like a starving man, Potter.”

Harry shrugged. “It’s good.”

“Hmmm.”

There was silence as the two men ate, but unlike earlier in the day the silence was comfortable. When they had finished, Malfoy stood and put their plates to one side, then picked up the tartan blanket from the other rock, setting it out on the floor in front of the rock where Harry was sitting. To Harry’s surprise, Malfoy settled himself on the blanket, leaning himself back against Harry’s legs. Harry wasn’t sure what to do but as Malfoy’s back jostled his legs slightly, Harry let his knees fall open so that Malfoy could settle back against the rock, Harry’s legs surrounding him. Harry gulped. Having Malfoy’s head this close to his crotch was ridiculously distracting.

“I never wanted to kill anyone, you know that, don’t you Potter? I didn’t want to watch people ripped apart in front of me and hear screams from people being tortured. I really didn’t want any of that…”

“I know. Merlin, I know.” Malfoy’s statement shocked Harry out of his thoughts which were frankly entirely inappropriate. 

“If it hadn’t been for Sev…”

“I know.” Harry wanted to reach out to Malfoy but he still felt like he was dealing with a bloody dragon. Nuzzling up one minute and breathing fire the next. He settled for resting his hands gently on Malfoy’s shoulders, and when Malfoy sighed and relaxed into him he figured it must be ok and began to knead the muscles on the other man’s shoulders, working out the knots. “Snape saved me a lot too, you know. For a miserable bastard he’s awfully handy at getting people out of trouble.”

Harry felt Malfoy grimace. “He couldn’t save my mother and father though. Too late for that.”

“I heard they were both…”

“Yes, Potter. My parents are both completely batty. Thank you so much for reminding me.” Malfoy was fingering the Dark Mark on his arm thoughtfully and the hard, biting tone was back in his voice. 

“We were both driven to our respective sides in the war by our families, Potter. We’re not so very different in that respect.”

“I suppose not. Family is important.” 

Harry tried to imagine whether he would have had the strength to choose differently to Malfoy had he been raised by Lucius and Narcissa. He couldn’t be sure. 

“When did you realise you were gay, Potter?”

“Bloody hell, Malfoy. Talk about a change of subject.”

Malfoy’s shoulders lifted beneath Harry’s hands in a shrug. “I don’t like talking about the war. I want to hear about when the great Harry Potter decided to break the hearts of witches all over the country and finally admit that he liked to suck cock.”

“Malfoy!” Harry was laughing and also trying desperately to banish the mental images which were coming to mind all too easily. 

“What? If you can’t talk about it, you shouldn’t be doing it Potter. Although if you feel the need at any point, there’s no need to be shy.” Malfoy stretched his long legs out in front of him and hooked a hand around Harry’s leg, stroking his calf softly, a chuckle in his voice. “So when did you officially come out?”

“Just after the war. I tried to make a go of things with Gin and it just wasn’t right. She was great, but something was missing. I couldn’t figure out what it was until I realised Ginny was just a friend and I was probably more interested in Bill or Charlie romantically than Ginny.”

“What did she say?”

“A lot. Nothing. I don’t think she was all that surprised to be honest. In a way it made her feel a bit better. I hadn’t exactly been rushing to…”

“Get intimate?”

“Yes. She thought there was something wrong with her. When she started dating Oliver Wood I think she started feeling a lot better about herself. We’re friends now.”  
Harry began working his hands down Malfoy’s shoulders, kneading his back and Malfoy shuffled to give him better access, letting out a groan. “When did you realise?”

“Mmmm. Just there, Potter. I am pretty sure I’ve always known I was gay. I had a quick shag with Pansy once but I was already out and proud by then. It was really just a curiosity   
thing. Ugh.”

Harry laughed at Malfoy’s obvious disgust. “I never knew you were gay, not while we were at school I mean. I didn’t know you dated anyone at Hogwarts.”

“God, yes. Blaise, Nott, Finnegan-”

“-You dated Seamus?! Wait, Zabini isn’t gay.”

“I fucked Seamus, Potter. It was hardly a match made in heaven. You may remember that we didn’t exactly share the same political outlook when I was at Hogwarts. And no, Blaise isn’t gay. He was experimenting. I wasn’t.”

Harry didn’t push any further. It felt as though there was more history between Malfoy and Zabini than Malfoy’s casual tone let on. 

“I even tried to snog Sev once.”

“Snape?! Fucking hell…” Harry’s hands stilled on Malfoy’s shoulders.

“Don’t stop, Potter.” Harry’s hands started moving again and Malfoy leant back into them with another sigh, crossing his legs in the other direction. “He turned me down of course, but he was very kind about it. Said lot of stuff about how I was too young, had a lot of growing up to do. I’ve always respected him for that. He was right.”

“So who was your…you know…”

“Oh. Zabini.”

“Oh.”

“And you?”

“Well…obviously I spent a lot of time trying to kill Voldemort and stuff…” Harry ignored the snort from Malfoy. “With Ginny it just never happened, for obvious reasons…a few Muggles since then.” 

Quite a few actually, but Harry didn’t want to say that, even if Malfoy’s own playboy tendencies were fairly well publicised. 

“Wait…are you saying you haven’t…with another wizard?”

“Nope. Never. I also always…you know…I never...”

“Bottom?”

Harry’s hands were probably pressing a little hard on Malfoy’s shoulder now at the intimate conversation. Malfoy’s hand was still lightly stroking his leg and the smell of Malfoy all over the bloody jumper he was wearing made the conversation and Harry’s trousers more than a little uncomfortable. He was pleased that Malfoy wasn’t facing him and that the darkness of the countryside and the fact that the flickering light from the fire probably made his cheeks look red and warm in any event, masking his blushes. 

“Exactly. Never.”

“Oh. Why not?”

“I don’t know, Malfoy. Never wanted to, I guess…” 

That wasn’t true at all. Harry wanted to, very much, but he was waiting. He wasn’t sure what the hell he was waiting for. Love…another wizard, someone who knew about his life rather than getting fucked by a stranger against the wall of a nightclub or taken to someone’s flat or hotel room for a few hours before he was unceremoniously kicked out on his arse. 

“Do you think you’ll ever want to?”

“Of course. Sure.” 

“Oh. Good.” Malfoy sounded relieved and Harry didn’t want to have to start thinking about why that might be.

“What about you?”

“Me?” Malfoy shrugged into Harry’s hands. “I have, of course. With the right person either way can be amazing.” Malfoy was shifting now, turning to face Harry, sitting back on his heels, both hands splayed on Harry’s knees and looking up at Harry who felt ridiculously exposed to Malfoy’s scrutiny as he sat with his legs apart and half hard. “I’d make it good you know. Really good.”

“Fuck. Malfoy.” Harry was practically pleading as one of Malfoy’s hands travelled from its place on Harry’s knee, slowly up his thigh while Malfoy kept his eyes trained on Harry’s own eyes. He licked his lips and Harry thought it was the most bloody erotic thing he had ever seen as shiver ran down his neck to the base of his spine and he felt heat pool in his groin. The sky was so clear and full of stars and as Malfoy moved his gaze down to Harry’s lap, Harry thought that going camping may have been one of the best ideas he had ever-

“-Fuck! Potter!” Malfoy’s hand disappeared and he was on his feet, backing away from Harry pointing with a shaking hand in his direction. “It’s bloody huge!”

Harry gave a lazy smile. “Well, I know I have been pretty blessed in that department Malfoy but I wouldn’t go as far as to say-”

“The spider Potter, there’s a fucking huge spider on you, you utter arse.”

“What?!” 

Harry yelped and leapt to his feet, shaking his t-shirt out. The offending creature scuttled away somewhere safe and Harry chuckled, feeling a little shaky.

“C’mon, Malfoy, it’s just a spider. I’ve seen much worse than that.” 

Harry shuddered a little, thinking of the Forbidden Forest and one of his many near death experiences.

“I hate spiders, Potter. This is exactly why I stay in five star hotels and never ever go camping. Oh bloody hell. I’m going to bed.”

“Fine!” 

Harry cleared up the mess left from their food and drinks, dampening the fire as he did so. The moment, whatever it had been, had clearly passed. Bloody Malfoy, the tease. One   
minute he was hotter than anything and the next minute he was stomping around and behaving like a total brat about something. 

Harry wanted to get really mad about Malfoy’s temper tantrums, but the cosy feeling of the woollen jumper against his chest and the thought of the clothes set out in neat little piles on his sleeping bag stopped him. He looked towards the tent, where Malfoy had just disappeared and noticed the torch was still on. Harry sighed and made his way towards the tent, kicking his shoes off and crawling in. Malfoy had his back to Harry and Harry unbuckled his jeans, kicking off his trousers and socks. He was going to take off the jumper but it was cold. Shivering he got into the sleeping bag, thinking he would just leave it on for a moment.

Harry flicked the torch off and his eyes adjusted to the dark, so that he could see the shadow of Malfoy’s body next to him, rising and falling as he breathed rhythmically. The sounds from outside the tent were unfamiliar and Harry could hear the rain start up again, as the first few drops of began to patter against the side of the tent as he tossed and turned and struggled to get to sleep. 

Although he had only gone to bed about ten minutes or so before Harry, Malfoy appeared to be sleeping like a baby, without a care in the world and Harry propped himself up onto his elbow, watching him as he slept. He couldn’t figure Malfoy out for the life of him. Yes, he was still an arse, who threw tantrums but he also seemed so different, so carefree. He didn’t like spiders and didn’t appear to enjoy the rain too much, but Harry knew he would have been lost without Malfoy to put up the tent, show him how to light a fire and cook for them. Duck to water wasn’t quite right, but he was doing just as good a job at Muggle camping as Harry. He was starting to enjoy Malfoy’s company, temper tantrums and all. Bloody temperamental dragon. 

Harry watched as Malfoy’s lips parted and he breathed softly into the silence of the tent, the only other sound the pitter-patter of rain against the canvas and the rustling and baaing of the sheep they were sharing the campsite with. As Harry stared, Malfoy turned his head slowly in his direction.

“Potter? It’s a bit creepy, watching me sleep.”

One grey eye cracked open and Harry found himself eyeball to eyeball with a sleepy Malfoy.

“I can’t sleep.”

“Close your eyes, count some sheep or something. Don’t just lie there watching me. Good lord, Potter. You need to get laid.”

“Perhaps I do. You’re such a brat, Malfoy. Why did you stomp off again? It’s not my fault there are bugs out in the countryside for fucks sake.”

Malfoy was obviously fully awake now, facing Harry with a sneer. “I told you, Potter. I don’t like this. Malfoy’s don’t camp, we don’t sleep on the floor and we sure as hell don’t- -”

“Oh shut up!” There was only one way to get Malfoy to be quiet, Harry deduced and he launched himself at Malfoy, pushing the other man flat onto his back, straddling him and kissing him as if his life depended on it. Malfoy had definitely just let out a whimper, Harry thought aware that he was only wearing boxer shorts and Malfoy’s huge woolly jumper. He carded his hand through Malfoy’s silky hair, groaning as he felt Malfoy mouth open up to his kisses and registered Malfoy’s hands pushing under his jumper.  
Harry took a breath and pulled back, yanking the jumper over the head and then battled with the zip on Malfoy’s sleeping bag, pulling it down and opening up the sleeping bag to reveal a shirtless Malfoy, wearing his bloody satin pyjama bottoms again which left very little to the imagination.

“So Fucking Hot. You drive me totally crazy, Malfoy.”

Harry’s mouth was back on Malfoy's and his hands were running up and down Malfoy’s sides as he settled over Malfoy and began nibbling down his neck, licking his collarbone, relishing the sounds he was pulling from Malfoy’s mouth with his lips. He ground into Malfoy, hard, holding his hips, his hardness pressed against Malfoy through the thin material of his boxer shorts and Malfoy’s pyjamas. The friction felt so bloody good and as Malfoy thrust up into Harry he moaned and thrust back. 

He felt a hand reaching in between their bodies and groaned as he felt is slide into his boxer shorts and grip his cock firmly. Harry rolled off Malfoy a little, pushing down Malfoy’s satin pyjamas as Malfoys hands scrabbled to get rid of Harry’s boxer shorts. Harry felt like he couldn’t breathe properly, it felt so goddamn amazing and he was back on top of Malfoy, their hard lengths pressed together. Harry was nipping, kissing and biting as Malfoy arched into him with a groan and then he felt Malfoy mouth into his neck and shudder into him, a wetness spreading between them. Malfoy had just come, Harry realised and the thought tipped him over the edge and he was coming too, his teeth fastened to Malfoy’s shoulder, as Malfoy arched into him again, gripping his shoulders.

“Fuck.”

“You have a mouth like an east end hooker, Potter.” Malfoy was looking at Harry, seemingly fairly relaxed.

Harry laughed. “Thanks.” He gestured at his lower abdomen. “I don’t usually…I mean…Gods, Malfoy, you make me feel like I’m bloody fifteen again.”

Malfoy laughed easily. “I suppose I should take that as a compliment. I know you said no magic on this trip and to do things the Muggle way but…”

“Scourgify.” Harry waved his hand and smirked at Malfoy. “I don’t think Snape intended for us to learn how to have sex the Muggle way, so I think we can make non-magical exception for these kinds of…activities…”

“You think there’ll be more, do you Potter?”

“I hope so…” Harry was finally feeling sleepy, the lack of sleep the night before and the stress of dealing with the bloody dragon catching up with him. He wondered when he had started to feel so possessive of Malfoy, like he was his own personal pet or something. “Mmmm….you smell good, budge up.” Harry lazily unzipped his sleeping bag too, lying with Malfoy on his which had spread out beneath them and covering them both with his own bag. Before going to sleep he picked up Malfoy’s jumper. “Do you mind?”

“Nope.” 

Harry pulled the jumper over his head, feeling warm again and snuggled into Malfoy who rested in the crook of his arm.

“Potter?” Harry was almost asleep when Malfoy spoke softly into the darkness. “Wandless magic is really hot.” He would have to remember that. Harry smiled and ran a hand through Malfoy’s hair as he drifted off to sleep. If Malfoy liked wandless magic he wondered what he would think of Parseltongue…

DAY 3 – WEDNESDAY

When Harry woke up he was cold from the waist down and there was no warm body nestled close to his. He rubbed his eyes blearily. The tent was definitely empty. He could smell something wonderful from outside however and he could hear the clattering of pots and pans and the crackle of the fire. Pulling on some jeans he ducked his head out of the tent to see Malfoy, busier than a house elf at Christmas, slaving away over a hot campfire.

“Good grief, Potter, your hair looks atrocious.”

“Thanks.” Harry ran a hand through his hair. It was never going to be tidy he didn’t know why he bothered. He wandered over to the campfire where eggs, bacon and sausages were cooking over the campfire and it smelt absolutely delicious. Malfoy was buttering some enormous slabs of white bread which looked fresh and fluffy and totally amazing.

“Malfoy, where did this stuff come from? We’re not allowed to go to the shops.”

“Well, Potter you know that nice woman from the farm down the road who owns the campsite?”

Harry blanched, hoping that Malfoy’s little story wasn’t going to involve any form of the Imperius curse. “Yes…”

“Well she stopped by this morning to check everything was ok after the rain last night. She was a bit concerned as we had noticed we didn’t have a car. She thought that we may struggle to get into the village today without a car because of the weather, so she bought us some food from the farm to have for breakfast.”

“But we’re not supposed to…”

“Oh yes, Potter, and I read that little leaflet of yours properly this morning. We only have to take the students camping for one night on their bronze expedition and two nights for their silver. Let’s be honest, with you teaching them and if Sev’s assessment of the current intake is anything to go by we are hardly going to have any gold level qualifiers to worry about for a few years.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

Draco was looking like the cat that got the cream. “It means that we have completed this little experiment. Proved to Sev we can do Muggle camping the Duke of Edinburgh way for the requisite length of time, without killing anyone, including each other.”

Harry didn’t feel so very hungry anymore. “You mean you want to go home?”

Malfoy seemed oblivious to the crestfallen look on Harry’s face. “No Potter, I am quite happy to see this through until the end of the week, even continue not to use magic if you insist. Besides, I don’t think Sev would let us off with anything less than a week. However, I think we can branch out beyond the contents of our rucksacks now to make sure we are well fed.”

“Oh.” Harry tried not to let the relief in his voice show, but Malfoy must have caught a hint of something because he turned around and smiled softly, the look in his eyes taking Harry’s breath away.

“Agree, Harry?”

“Sure. Yes. This smells amazing.”

“Thank you, Potter. I’m a very good cook. I’m really rather talented.”

Harry snorted. “Yes Malfoy, well done – hang on – what the hell are you wearing?”

“This?” Malfoy was dressed in brown corduroys and a barber jacket looking like the owner of a countryside manor, which Harry supposed he was…sort of. “We’re going shooting, Potter. Have you ever had pheasant?”

“No…I don’t think…”

“It’s delicious. Father knows a Muggle who owns one some land in this area. His son is home and he has offered to take us shooting today, if we wish. I set it all up before coming here.”

“You’re father knows a Muggle?” 

“Oh yes, they were quite friendly. Father doesn’t know the son very well, but I do. We have a drink together sometimes.” Harry scowled at Malfoy’s slight blush, thinking he wasn’t getting the whole story.

“Does he know…?”

“That we’re wizards? Yes. Father thought it was always beneficial to keep links with a couple of Muggle aristocrats.”

Harry snorted. Lucius Malfoy and his political machinations. It figured that he would follow a madman who killed Muggles and half-bloods for fun yet still retain links to the Muggle landed gentry to use for his own purposes as and when he desired.

“What should I wear?”

“Just your wellingtons and something warm and comfortable from that hideous wardrobe of yours should do the job, Potter.” Malfoy was serving up breakfast and Harry sat down on one of the rocks, eagerly tucking into the delicious food.

“Just like a starving man…” Harry waved a hand dismissively, ignoring Malfoy’s amused chuckle and he tucked into the best breakfast he had ever eaten, feeling a pair of flint grey eyes watching him in amusement as he ate.

OoooOOoooO

When Harry emerged from the tent, he saw Malfoy leaning against a silver Land Rover, chatting easily to a man who looked about the same age as Harry. He was tall, taller than Harry and Malfoy and he was impeccably dressed. He had dark hair and as Harry moved closer he noticed the way that the other man would reach out to Malfoy every now and again, brushing his arm or giving him a gentle punch on the shoulder as Malfoy said something funny. 

“Malfoy.”

“Oh, Harry!” Malfoy was laughing at something tall dark and handsome was saying and turned to Harry as if he had forgotten he was even there. “This is Hugo. He’s the son of William Wittington, the Muggle my father knows. He’s going to take us shooting on their estate this morning. Hugo, this is Potter. Harry Potter.”

“Pleased to meet you, Harry.” Hugo was looking him up and down and didn’t look very pleased to meet Harry. “Are you…one of…?” He gestured to Malfoy and Harry felt himself bristle.

“Yes I’m gay, if that’s what you mean.”

Hugo and Malfoy started laughing together at Harry, as he stood there frowning.

“Potter you idiot, Hu was asking if you are a wizard.” Malfoy rested a hand on Hugo’s arm. “Potter most certainly is a wizard. He’s really quite famous in our world.” He let his breath dip conspiratorially. “He’s very powerful.”

“I see.” Hugo was looking at Harry with grudging respect of sorts, but he still didn’t look as if he liked him very much. “Let’s go, Gents. Get in.” Opening the door to the Land Rover, Hugo and Draco jumped into the two front seats and Harry was left in the back, listening to the two men reminisce. 

OoooOOoooO

By the time Harry had spent a couple of hours with ‘Dray’ and ‘Hu’ he was ready to hex the bloody pheasants and Malfoy into oblivion. It was very apparent that the two had more than a platonic relationship as they flirted and joked with one another at every opportunity. Harry had never seen Malfoy this carefree. He didn’t behave like a volatile dragon around Hugo; he was full of smiles and good humour. Harry didn’t see this Malfoy stomping off into the woods or behaving like a complete prat.

“Potter, for the hundredth time, bloody concentrate. Don’t point your gun at me. You’re going to end up causing an accident. Merlin, you’re terrible at this.”

“I am concentrating, Malfoy, screw you.” Harry growled at Malfoy, seething and trying to stop himself from reaching for his wand. 

“He’s tetchy, isn’t he, Dray?” Harry could hear the laughter in Hugo’s voice and he wanted to reach out and throttle him.

“Oh don’t mind Potter, he just needs to get laid.”

“I bet you could help him there, Dray. You always have been good at helping people work out their tensions.” 

That was it, Harry was seething. “Malfoy, I’m done. You’re right, I am horrible at this and it’s clear you two will have more fun without me. I’m going to go back to get my stuff and I’ll see you back at the campsite.” Harry was spitting the words out. “Enjoy.”

“Wait, Potter-”

But Harry had turned on his heel and disappeared, ignoring his own rules against using magic and apparating back to the house as soon as he was out of Hugo’s eye line. He stomped through into a large room with ornate wooden furniture and saw his backpack, next to Malfoys by the wall. He saw the blue bag with the pac-a-mac shoved into the side pocket of Malfoy’s backpack and he thought about yesterday and the kiss, the night in the tent and this morning, Malfoy’s cooking and secretive smile over breakfast that had made Harry’s heart jump with delight. What the hell was wrong with him? Malfoy was a playboy, hanging off the arm of a new wizard every weekend. Malfoy bloody hated him.   
They hated each other. What did he think was going to happen? They were going to settle down and live in a house with a white picket fence and adopt a couple of kids? This was Draco Malfoy for crying out loud. 

“Merlin, I’m an idiot.”

“Potter?” Harry turned around to see Malfoy standing behind him, looking confused. He looked so bloody good in his boots and a knit black jumper. He had taken his barber jacket off and he didn’t have his gun or anything else with him. Hugo was nowhere to be seen. “Potter, what was all that about?” 

Malfoy was moving closer now and Harry felt inexplicably angry. He couldn’t believe he had just watched Malfoy flirting for hours.

“Why would something be wrong, Dray? What the fuck would make you think there’s a problem?” Harry and Malfoy were nose to nose now, Harry’s eyes flashing his hair askew from traipsing through the woods. He tried to ignore the way that Malfoy’s scent and his proximity was playing havoc with Harry’s hormones.

“Jealous, Potter? How sweet, I didn’t know you cared.” Malfoy was taunting Harry now sneering that supercilious Malfoy sneer and flicking his hair from his eyes. “You didn’t have a problem with Hu, did you?” Malfoy was smiling now.

“I’m sure he just bloody loves it when you smile at him like that, Dray, what else do you use that pretty little mouth for when you’re alone with him?” Harry knew he was being a bastard but he didn’t care. How dare Malfoy flirt and wink and touch another man under his very nose. He should know better. He was Harry’s to touch, to hold, to taste. No fucking way was he going to let someone else muzzle in on his territory.

Harry waved a hand and the double doors to the room they were in slammed shut. He pushed Malfoy back against the wall, hearing the dull thud as Malfoy’s back and legs connected with the wood. He muttered under his breath and they were under a protective ward of powerful magic, blocking out all sound and protecting them from the view of anyone who might come into the room. 

“Potter – what the--” Malfoy’s eyes were wide now, as Harry crowded him against the wall, one hand next to Malfoy’s face, the other hard on his hip, holding Malfoy in place. A strand of blonde hair had fallen over Malfoy’s face and Harry pushed it back, tangling his hands in Malfoy’s hair roughly, pulling his head back to breathe in the heady scent of sweat and that incredible cologne.

“You don’t fucking do that, Malfoy. Not when you’re with me. You don’t flirt and bat your bloody eyelashes at anyone who takes your fancy.” Harry’s breath was coming hot and hard against Malfoy’s neck which was now exposed to Harry’s mouth and he bit down roughly, drawing a whimper from Malfoy who was clinging to his shoulders as if he couldn’t stand straight without support. 

“I didn’t-”

“Yes you bloody well did, Malfoy and you know you did. You’re like a dragon around me, blowing hot and cold with your strops and moods and with him it’s as if everything is perfect. Did you want to make me jealous, Draco? Is that what you wanted to do?”

“Yes, I--”

“Well now you’ve gone and done it, Malfoy. Well done. I’m jealous and you are going to pay the consequences.” Harry couldn’t think straight and he could hear the darkness in his own voice as he leaned in to Malfoy, worrying the lobe of his ear with his teeth and pulling the most amazing sounds from the other man. “As you said to your fuck buddy out there, I’m a very powerful wizard. You really should think twice about who you piss off, Malfoy.” Grasping Malfoy’s hands he pulled them roughly above his head, holding them high against the wall. With a flick of his hand and a muttered spell, the hands were bound with a Gryffindor tie and attached to the wall, stretching Malfoy completely.

“Gods, Potter!”

“It’s too late, Malfoy. I’ve had it with your temper tantrums mood swings and watching you flirt with other men.” Malfoy’s eyes were wide grey and looking at Harry, pleading for something. Harry bent to lick a stripe from Malfoy’s collarbone to his earlobe, enjoying the moan which escaped from Malfoy’s mouth, deep and guttural as he put his mouth close to Malfoy’s ear. “If you want me to stop, Malfoy, the word is Parselmouth. ~I won’t hurt you, trust me~,” Harry hissed in the sibilant language, pressing his hand hard against Malfoy’s trousers, feeling his hard cock straining against the thick material.

“Merlin, fuck! Harry…” Malfoy was breathing the words out, babbling as Harry hissed in his ear, thrusting into Harry’s hand. “Please…”

What the hell was wrong with him? Harry never behaved like this, but he was too angry, too consumed with the smell of Malfoy and the feeling of him beneath his hands to care. Harry kicked Malfoy’s legs apart and roughly unbuckled Malfoy’s belt, shoving the other man’s trousers to his knees. He relished the sight of Malfoy, his eyes hooded and half closed, head thrown back against the wall, exposed completely to Harry and arching himself into Harry’s hand with a moan.

“You fucking slut Malfoy. Don’t you ever do that to me again; you drive me crazy you completely gorgeous bastard!” Harry was grasping Malfoy’s cock hard now, relishing the silky hardness between his hands as he smeared pre-come around the tip while Malfoy blabbered incoherently and tried to control Harry’s movements.

As Harry murmured another spell, Malfoy’s eyes widened thinking he understood Harry’s intention, his wide eyed stare turning into shock when Harry sank to his knees. Holding Malfoy wasn’t enough for Harry, he would never get enough of Malfoy he thought as he sank to his knees, swallowing him down in one, wet motion. The smell of Malfoy was so good, so bloody enticing, he couldn’t stop licking him, tasting him. Malfoy yelled above him, trying to thrust into Harry’s mouth, as Harry held his hip hard, against the wall. The fingers of his other hand slicked from the earlier muttered spell reached behind Malfoy teasing his entrance. Without ceremony Harry slipped one slicked finger into Malfoy as he sucked him, then two, viciously and thrusting hard until he found what he was looking for, curling his fingers just so as Malfoy screamed and came, hard, into Harry’s mouth. Harry rested his head for a moment on Malfoy’s hip as he settled his breathing and breathed in the delicious, musky scent of Malfoy.

When Harry moved from his knees, Malfoy was fully exposed and was looking at Harry with that same, wide eyed stare. Harry kissed him on the mouth, full and hard and was met with a whimper and eager lips which crushed against his, as Malfoy struggled with his bonds, seemingly wanting to get closer to Harry. Harry knew he could never be close enough.

“Taste yourself on me, Malfoy. Taste how fucking delicious you are, you bloody tease and don’t ever do that to me again. You’re mine.” Harry practically growled. 

With a quickly muttered spell and a wave of his hand, Malfoy was released. Harry noticed with some regret the red marks around Malfoy’s wrist as he handed him the tie which had been wrapped around Malfoy’s hands, pinning him to the wall. Malfoy’s eyes widened as he noticed the house colours and Harry smirked at him.

“Never underestimate a Gryffindor, Malfoy.” With a crack of magic, Harry apparated back to the campsite. The campsite looked so small after being in the huge house and the grounds of the sprawling stately home they had just visited. Harry was still breathing heavily and he could taste Malfoy on his tongue. He put his head into the tent, kicking off his shoes and saw Malfoy’s jumper, neatly folded on the green sleeping bag, where he had left it that morning.

He pulled the jumper to him, wrapping it into a ball, smelling the scent of Malfoy and nestling his face in the soft ball. He thought about those scars, etched into Malfoys chest, scars that he, Harry, had caused. He thought about Malfoy in his cagoule, looking forlornly at the rain, Malfoy cooking him supper and talking about his schoolboy crush. He thought about Malfoy’s grey eyes, amused and teasing as they looked at Harry and about how those eyes just a moment ago had widened in shock and possibly even fear.   
Harry groaned. He had just basically attacked Malfoy at the home of his father’s friend’s house, forcing himself on the other man irrespective of whether Malfoy wanted it or not. 

Harry buried his head in the jumper. It had also been bloody incredible and he was still rock hard.

“Potter? Harry?” Harry turned his head to the voice which was coming from the entrance of the tent. Malfoy’s blonde head was poking through the entrance and he was crawling into the tent, where he sat next to Harry who had curled Malfoy’s jumper into a ball in his lap. Harry noticed that Malfoy’s hair was mussed and his lips red and swollen. He took Malfoy’s hands, soothing the red marks at his wrists.

“I’m sorry, Malfoy.”

“What for? For making me come so hard I almost blacked out, or for leaving before I had a chance to return the favour?” Malfoy was scooting closer to Harry now, reaching a tentative hand out to tangle in Harry’s hair and Harry moaned into the touch, pushing Malfoy’s jumper out of the way so that he could get closer, kissing Malfoy fiercely.

“I was unforgivably rude.”

“Yes, you were rather, weren’t you?” Malfoy looked amused. “I remembered to bring back some pheasant and Hugo seemed to understand. No harm done, Potter. I do wish you wouldn’t leave me looking so well….shagged…however. It was mortifying – my hair was everywhere!”

“I’m sorry, Malfoy.” This time Harry said it with a smirk as he petted Malfoy’s hair into place, allowing his fingers to linger on the strands and gently tickling the nape of Malfoy’s neck as he arched he neck back into the touch.

“That was quite a kinky trick you pulled, Potter. How did you know all of those spells, anyway? I thought you only shagged Muggles.”

Harry shrugged trying to fight his blushes. “I read.”

“You read porn, Potter? Well, who would have thought?” Malfoy was teasing Harry gently. “I must say I’m impressed. Who would have expected a noble Gryffindor to be so very…Slytherin?”

Harry flushed red. “I just…I know I have no right to get so…”

“Possessive?” Malfoy was smirking. “You are rather, aren’t you, Potter. Perhaps you would like me to get a Boy Who Lived tattoo? Draco Malfoy: Property of Potter.” 

“Oh shut it, Malfoy.” Harry was laughing now as he leaned into Draco, planting soft kisses from his collarbone to his earlobe, delighting at the shivers he felt course through the other man’s body. “I’m sure we can think of something more pleasurable than a tattoo…” Harry nibbled and sucked at a particular spot on Draco’s neck at this, enjoying the way his head fell back to give Harry better access to his throat as Harry inhaled the exquisite scent of Draco.

“I think I like it when you go all ‘powerful wizard’ on me, Potter.” Malfoy’s eyes were dancing as Harry pulled back from Draco’s neck, pulling a face.

“I don’t usually say that kind of stuff, you know. I’m not a total ass.”

Malfoy laughed and kissed Harry gently on the lips. “I know. I like that I make you mad enough to say stuff like that.” He cocked an eyebrow at Harry, giving him a filthy look. “If I do things like that more often, will I get more punishments?”

“You’re such a brat, Malfoy.” Harry leaned in for another kiss, longer this time. “I’m pretty sure you will need to be punished an awful lot.”

“I like the sound of that.” Malfoy grinned and settled back, seemingly content.

Harry paused, thinking. “Are we, boyfriends then Malfoy? Is that what we’re going to do? I can’t do this with you if there is going to be anyone else. That’s not my style.”

“If that’s what you want.” Malfoy leaned across to Harry and began to reciprocate Harry’s earlier activities by tracing kisses down his neck as Harry groaned. “Despite what you read, Potter, I can be quite a fan of monogamy myself you know. I am very spoiled and I certainly don’t like to share what is mine.”

Malfoy’s breath against Harry’s ear was doing all sorts of things to Harry, who buried his hands into Malfoy’s hair, pulling his lips closer to his skin. Malfoy obliged, kissing harder and moving from Harry’s neck to his collarbone, reaching under Harry’s jumper and tugging at it to indicate Harry should take it off.

“Malfoy…please.”

Harry knew he sounded whiny but he was desperate for Malfoy to touch him and when Malfoy’s knuckles brushed against the front of Harry’s jeans his back arched into Malfoy’s hand, drawing a chuckle from Draco.

“Patience, Harry. I think it’s my turn to be in charge now.” Deft, confident fingers were undoing Harry’s belt and Harry could feel his mind slowly turning to mush as it always seemed to when he was around Draco Malfoy.

Harry suddenly groaned as a thought occurred to him. “Fuck! Ron’s going to kill me.”

Malfoy laughed as he pushed Harry’s trousers down completely and began to lick and tease at the inside of Harry’s thighs. “How about I take your mind off the Weasel for a while, what do you say, Harry?”

“Fuck, yes.”

“By the way,” Malfoy paused at his task, much to Harry’s displeasure, raising his head to look at Harry, “Speaking Parseltongue is really quite kinky, Potter. Say something else.”

“~If I’m not very careful I am going to find myself head over heels in love with you, Draco Malfoy~”

“What did you say? Did you say my name?”

“Yes, I said Draco Malfoy is an annoying git who is going to be the death of me.”

“Oh, I’ll be the death of you alright, Potter.” Malfoy said with a smirk and began to resume his task with enthusiasm. It was quite a while before Harry was capable of thinking about anything else at all.

DAY 4 – THURSDAY

Harry had woken up alone and as he padded sleepily towards the shower he was greeted by Draco coming back down the hill towards him, bare-chested and his hair wet. Harry licked his lips at the sight of him and couldn’t stop his face from breaking into a broad grin.

“Morning, Potter.”

“Malfoy.” 

The silence stretched between them as they continued to gaze at one another, both smiling. Harry wasn’t sure what to do. This man was his boyfriend, his partner. He felt his should kiss him or something but in the light of day with the whole of the countryside sprawled around them and the sounds of the birds in the trees he felt strangely awkward.

“Merlin Potter, you’ve tied me up with your old school tie and gone down on me in someone else’s home and you can’t manage a little kiss to say good morning?” Malfoy was smiling at Harry as if he was able to read his thoughts and Harry smirked, the tension broken.

“The problem is, Malfoy, with you looking like that I am not sure I can stop at a little kiss.” Harry pulled Malfoy into his arms and kissed him soundly carding his hand through Draco’s wet hair and running a hand up and down his back, delighting in the feel of Draco’s skin so soft beneath his own hand, calloused from years of playing Quidditch.

“Mmmm...that’s better. The proper way to say good morning.” They broke apart and Malfoy was smiling at Harry, looking sinfully tousled and well kissed.

“I quite agree. I’m going to shower and then we should plan what to do today. Another walk?” Harry smiled at Malfoy’s pout.

“We can’t just stay in our tent all day?”

“I really think we will have to show Snape that we have managed to do something other than shag each other’s brains out, don’t you? Besides, we have tonight.”

“Roll on tonight.” Malfoy looked quizzically at Harry. “Did you say shag each other’s brains out?”

Flushing at the memory of their earlier conversation and suddenly feeling horribly inexperienced, Harry nodded. “I mean…sure. If you want…”

Malfoy was staring at him with those grey eyes as Harry scuffed the ground awkwardly with the toe of his trainer, until he suddenly found his arms full of Draco, being kissed as if the world was about to end. He was almost toppled over backwards and just managed to steady himself before they both fell over. He broke away laughing.

“What was that for?”

“Nothing.” Malfoy was grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Just felt like it.” With that, he began making his way back to the tent, whistling as he went. Harry watched him walk away, shaking his head. Not for the first time he wondered how he would survive having Draco Malfoy in his life on a permanent basis. 

OoooOOoooO

“So what made you decide to teach at Hogwarts? I wouldn’t have thought you needed the money?” Harry and Draco had been walking comfortably together for just over a mile, although their walk seemed to be taking longer than usual as they kept stopping to kiss or touch one another.

“I’m sure you hardly need the money either, Harry, yet you still teach.”

“No. I guess not. I have to do something though and Hogwarts has always felt like home. After the war I was sick of fighting and being an Auror was never going to work out. I get to keep learning about and practicing a subject that I love without actually having to be away from home and fighting all the time.”

“Where is home?” 

“I still have 12 Grimmauld Place, the old Black residence. It’s kind of depressing though. I keep meaning to get it fixed up. In the meantime I have a flat in Hogsmeade. It’s nice.   
You should come round for supper when we get back on Friday.”

“You’re going to cook for me?”

Harry shrugged. “It’s not Malfoy standard, but I can rustle something up. Besides…” Harry stopped and turned to Draco, pulling the other man towards him and brushing their lips together softly. “I want to see how you look on my sheets.”

Malfoy snorted and returned Harry’s kiss. “I suppose I can manage that, but I warn you Potter, red and gold really don’t do anything for my complexion.”

“I don’t have my bedroom decorated like the Gryffindor dorms you arse.” Harry was laughing as the two men continued walking. “And you haven’t answered my question. Why Hogwarts, why now?”

Malfoy shook his hair out of his eyes looking thoughtful. “I couldn’t really say. I stopped playing Quidditch a year or so ago and I had been training to be a Potions Master in my spare time. I always assumed I would go on to do research or open my own store but I got chatting with Severus and he kept going on about there being an opening for a Potions Master at Hogwarts.” Malfoy laughed. “He would never ask me to apply of course, but he wasn’t very subtle about hinting that he wanted me to take up the position.”

“So it’s not something you would have ideally chosen?” Harry was curious.

“It’s not that, it just wouldn’t have been my immediate career choice. Now it’s all been sorted out I’m actually looking forward to it. Plus, it’s not a bad way to redeem the Malfoy name and it means Sev and I will be able to work together on research which I have always wanted.”

Harry looked at Malfoy carefully wanting to make sure he picked his words very carefully. “Did you…do you still…?”

Draco was looking at Harry shrewdly as he struggled for the right words. “Are you trying to ask me if I’m still interested in Severus, Potter?”

“I suppose so.” Harry shrugged as if it didn’t matter, but he felt a painful grip around his heart and he felt sick to his stomach.

“What do you think?” Harry and Draco were almost nose to nose and Draco was smoothing Harry’s hair back from his forehead. 

“I don’t know. I hope not.” Green eyes met grey and Draco pressed his lips hard against Harry’s mouth, drawing back to look at him with such intensity that Harry felt almost dizzy, caught in the force of Draco’s gaze.

“I was young, Potter - much younger than I am now and a very different person. I didn’t know that Severus was offering me something my own father couldn’t. I was confused and lonely. As an adult I just don’t have that sort of relationship with him. I know what he is to me and I to him and it means so much but it’s not romantic. It never was for him, never will be again for me.”

“You just always seem so happy when you talk about him. With me…it’s like…”

“Like I think you’re a complete idiot with the worst hair I have ever seen and all of the fashion sense of a blind Cornish pixie?”

“Exactly!” Harry looked put out.

“Do stop fishing for compliments, Potter.” Draco closed the distance between he and Harry and brought their lips together in a hard kiss which was full of desire. He pulled back and whispered in Harry’s ear. “It’s you I want to fuck me, Harry. Just you. I thought we had established that.”

“Merlin, Draco.” With a groan, Harry leaned in for another delicious kiss as his hands seemed to be moving with a mind of their own all over Draco’s body. He couldn’t get enough of him and he wanted to rip and tear at everything Draco was wearing. He pushed his hands roughly under Draco’s rugby jumper and sighed into Malfoy’s mouth as his cool hands made contact with the soft, warm skin on Draco’s back. “I can’t get enough of you, Draco…” the words were out of Harry’s mouth before he could stop them and Malfoy pulled away studying Harry carefully.

“Take what you want, Harry.” Malfoy was giving Harry a look which took his breath away as he moved one of Harry’s hands to his buckle, deftly working at Harry's with his other hand. Harry flung his jacket to the floor of the field, the trees whispering around them as they kissed in the open air. He shrugged his jacket off his shoulders and with a flick of his hand transfigured the jacket into a blanket, which he placed on the warm grass. He pushed Draco down to his knees and then tackled him, until they both fell back onto the blanket a tangle of limbs, their mouths pressed together feverishly. 

“I want…” Harry was working Draco’s trousers down.

“I know.” The look that Draco gave Harry was enough to make him slow down a little. Draco’s grey eyes were wide with trust and desire. The look on Draco’s perfect face reminded Harry of the flashes of vulnerability he had seen when Draco had been in the pub, when he had watched the rain tapping onto his cagoule and when he had clung to Harry’s shoulders at the stately home, silenced by Harry’s forceful kisses. Harry was determined not to abuse Draco’s trust in him. 

“It’s ok?” Harry looked seriously into Draco’s eyes as he smoothed his hands down Draco’s sides. 

Draco growled. “Get on with it, Potter.” With a groan Harry fell onto Draco, smothering him with his lips determined to make him feel as amazing as Harry possibly could. Harry took his time, kissing Draco everywhere he could, lingering on the areas which drew moans and gasps from the other man. He was careful to prepare Draco properly until he was writhing and keening at Harry’s ministrations, thrusting into Harry’s hand. As Harry slid inside him he Draco opened his eyes wide staring straight at Harry as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, the face above him. Harry felt his throat constrict looking at Malfoy and moved down to press his lips to Malfoys.

“Gods, you’re so fucking beautiful, Malfoy.” Harry never wanted the feeling to end as he moved slowly, finding the right angle and increasing the force and speed of his movements until Draco was incoherent. He had never wanted anything or anyone more than he wanted Draco Malfoy right now. “Merlin, I think I love you Draco.” 

Harry was coming and kissing Draco and Draco was yelling and arching up into Harry and then there was just ragged breathing and the silence of the countryside as green eyes met grey and Harry’s words weighed between the two men in the silence of the aftermath.

Draco coughed first, breaking the silence as Harry rolled off Draco, casting a quick cleaning charm over them both and zipping up his trousers so as not to feel even more exposed.

“Well…you’re definitely a fabulous fuck Potter, I’ll give you that much.” Malfoy was standing now, flicking a stray bit of grass off his shoulder and steadfastly refusing to look at Harry. Harry stood too, turning the blanket back into his jacket and wringing his hands together. He felt sick.

Malfoy turned to Harry to see the other man looking utterly crushed and sighed. “Gods, Potter. You look like your best friend just died.” He moved towards Harry and forced Harry’s chin until Harry was looking him in the eyes. Very gently, he leaned in and brushed his lips against Harry’s own.

“I didn’t…it was just, you know…the moment.” Harry tried to claw back his earlier words, sounding pathetic even to his own ears.

“I know.” Malfoy looked like he understood what Harry was trying to do and he brushed the hair out of Harry’s eyes which were still miserable. “This is…difficult for me, Harry…I’m not…very good at this.”

“You seem to be doing a better job than me.” Harry muttered, hating himself. Who the fuck told someone they loved them this early into a relationship? “It’s far too soon to be talking about…” Harry grimaced.

“You misunderstand me.” Malfoy coughed and looked down. “It’s not that. I get it. I really do. It’s you and me, Potter. We’ve been dancing with each other for enough years now. I don’t exactly envisage this being casual for either of us.”

“But?” Harry’s heart was aching. He knew there was more.

“I can’t…”

“Say it back?”

“No.”

Harry’s heart fell and he felt sick to his stomach. He was such an idiot. Why on earth did he have to say something so foolish?

“But…Harry…please, it’s not because…it’s me. Don’t you see?”

“No.” Harry said shortly and then wrapping his jacket around himself, the two began to walk, the silence stretching out ahead of them.

OoooOOoooO

They were nearing the campsite and the sun was setting on the day. Harry was fuming after yet another disaster of a walk which had involved the two men walking in silence. He knew this time he was being the brat, but he couldn’t help it. Draco was so…he had expected everything to fall into place. 

“I’m going for a shower.”

“Sure. I think I’m just going to read in the tent for a while. Let me know when you want to cook dinner. I’ll give you a hand, love.”

Draco was eying Harry closely.

“Don’t be an ass, Potter.”

“I’m not.” He was though, and Harry knew it. He went to the tent and shucked off his boots and waterproofs, leaving those outside in the porch area. When he was in the tent, Harry hesitated to get his book out and lay down on the sleeping bag, watching a small fly negotiate its way around the roof of the tent, the shadows of dusk making the bug seem bigger than it was. 

“Can I join you?”

“Why not?”

A wet, blonde head had poked into the tent and Draco was lying at Harry’s side, as the silence stretched out before them. They probably wouldn’t have said anything to one another but Draco was moving closer to Harry and he could feel soft hands and long fingers fluttering a pattern down his chest. Despite himself he arched into the movement and when Draco toyed with his belt he groaned and pulled the blonde on top of him, halting the tentative movements and kissing him with everything he had.

“I’m sorry I’m not very good at this.”

“Draco, you’re very good at this.” Harry gestured between them, wanting Draco to stop talking and carry on kissing. Draco laughed.

“Not sex, Harry.” He was practically preening. “I am better than good at that…I meant relationships, sweeping declarations and all that.”

“Oh.” For reasons he couldn’t really explain, Harry felt sad again at that. Draco noticed the change in his mood and groaned, banging his head against Harry’s chest and burying his face, rather distractingly, Harry thought, close to Harry’s abdomen.

“Fine, you win Potter. Of course I love you, you stupid, foolish bastard. How could I not? I’ve probably loved you for a hell of a lot longer than you could even begin to realise. I just…I’m not easy…people…men….have left me before.” Draco lifted his head from Harry’s chest and looked into his face seriously. “I mean, apparently I can be quite high maintenance.”

Harry couldn’t stop his laughter although he knew Draco was genuinely concerned and he made sure to run his hands up Draco’s back, pulling the man close to him in a deep kiss so that he didn’t misunderstand Harry’s reaction to the confession. 

“Don’t you get it, Draco? Of course I know that you’re high maintenance. I like that you’re difficult. I bloody love that you bicker with me constantly and that you are spoiled and spend far too much time staring at yourself in the mirror. I like that we argue. It keeps things interesting.” Harry smirked “And I’ve always wanted a pet dragon.”

“I’m not your bloody pet, Potter.” Malfoy was huffing but he seemed a little pleased by Harry’s declaration nonetheless. 

“No?” Harry petted Draco’s hair and stroked a finger up and down his spine until Draco was arching into him, practically purring. “You seem to like being petted well enough.”

“Right, Potter. That’s it. I’m bloody well in charge for once.” Malfoy scowled at Harry and before Harry could respond, he had tackled him to the floor of the tent and was setting about exploring every inch of Harry’s body like a man possessed, tearing at his clothes impatiently until Harry waved a hand, leaving them both naked.

“Bloody hell, Potter. What is it with you and all of the sex spells? What kind of stuff have you been reading anyway?” Malfoy’s eyes narrowed at Harry as he winked and placed a finger to his own mouth.

“My lips are sealed.” Harry grinned as Malfoy frowned, clearly displeased with the answer. He stopped grinning when Malfoy leaned forward and grabbed Harry’s finger in between his teeth, sucking on it, hard, until he had Harry groaning and begging for something. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was begging for but he wanted more of Malfoy. Frankly, Harry didn’t think he would ever get enough of Draco. Bloody hell, just the feel of Malfoy’s breath caressing his face was making him harder than he had ever been in his life. 

“Oh, God…Potter…”

“Fuck! Malfoy”

Harry felt heat pool in his stomach and he wanted to do every filthy thing he had ever fantasised about and he wanted to do it all with Malfoy. He let his legs fall open so that Malfoy could settle in between them and kiss him harder, moving from his ear to his neck, to his collarbone. Harry ran his hands up into Malfoy’s hair, which was so soft under his fingers. He wanted to grip it as hard as he could pulling Malfoy close to him. He wanted to bloody devour him. No one had ever felt this good, this right.

“I think we missed an opportunity at Hogwarts, Potter.” Malfoy’s voice was low and husky and the slight crackle in his tone assured Harry that Malfoy was just as affected by their actions as he was.

“I think you may be right…”

“So…” Malfoy’s hands were firm as they moved down Harry’s body, confident and assured. “What would you like, Harry?”

“Oh, Merlin…” Malfoy’s hands were so bloody strong. Harry had never expected that Malfoy’s hands would feel so raw, so masculine and so very perfect against his skin. Their tent felt so small and private, yet they were exposed to the elements. The torch light cast the shadows of their writhing bodies out to the countryside and the canvas felt thin as the rain hammered against it, as if begging to be let inside.

“Would you like…?” Malfoy’s hands moved slowly down Harry abdomen, dipping below Harry’s waist to softly stroke his aching erection and then Malfoy’s hand was moving further down, his finger teasing Harry’s entrance.

“Please, Malfoy…”

“What? What do you want, Harry?” Malfoy still sounded so husky and his hair was tickling Harry’s neck as he kissed and nibbled at Harry’s neck. Stupid bloody Slytherins, thought Harry. Too bloody sexy.

“I want…” This was ridiculous, Harry thought he was a grown man and he was not about to let Malfoy reduce him to a pool of helpless goo. “I want you to…you know?”

Malfoy breathed and chuckled “I want to hear you say it Harry.” He bent his head to Harry’s ear, teasing at the earlobe as his fingers continued to tease. “Would you like me to fuck you?” He moved away from Harry’s neck, sitting back and straddling Harry as he slowly moved his other hand down Harry’s chest, all the time watching him carefully with those grey eyes, his lips swollen and well kissed. 

“Gods, yes.” Harry hated himself for feeling this nervous. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t had sex before. Just not like this and not with Draco Malfoy. 

“Harry, trust me. If you want me to stop, I will.” 

“Oh, fucking hell, Malfoy.”

Malfoy had now moved all the way down Harry’s body and Harry felt his entire length engulfed in a warm, wet heat and Malfoy was sucking him, kissing him, and Harry felt like he wanted to die. He was absolutely sure that nothing would ever feel as good as Draco’s mouth around him. He couldn’t stop his body from moving, forcing his legs to drop open as much as he could manage to allow Malfoy better access, his hands carding in Malfoy’s hair, urging him to continue. He wanted to thrust into Malfoy’s mouth, but Malfoy had a vice like grip on his thighs, pinning Harry to the floor of the tent and setting his own pace.

“Ok?” The welcome heat disappeared and Malfoy was raising one perfectly coiffed blonde eyebrow at Harry, looking up, with his breath caressing the end of Harry’s cock.

“More, Malfoy…Draco, please.” Harry felt he should feel embarrassed about his wanton display but he just couldn’t seem to care. Draco’s hands moved everywhere, pulling him, pushing him, and teasing him, as Harry gasped and writhed and keened beneath his ministrations. As Draco came up to face him, Harry noticed his lips were swollen and his grey eyes were dancing with something, which looked suspiciously like happiness.

“Harry…You taste fucking delicious.” 

Harry laughed at that, pulling Draco up for a deep, slow kiss. “Thanks, Malfoy. I hope that means you’re planning to do that a lot. Now, are you planning to take my virginity or not?”

“Oh come on, Potter.” Draco was laughing at him now, his grey eyes wide, as Harry’s hands roamed over Malfoy’s body. “I’m not sure you should make yourself sound quite so virginal given the fact you have given me a blow job in someone’s house, had sex with me in a field, involved Parseltongue, bondage and bloody safe words in our first encounter and divested me of any concern I may have had that Harry Potter is utterly vanilla.”

“But Draco…” Harry’s eyes widened and he flipped the positions of the two men so that he was lying on top of Draco and able to nibble at his neck and pinch his nipples in a way which made Malfoy arch his back, pushing his glorious body fall length across Harry’s own. “I need you to teach me…”

With a growl, Malfoy flipped their positions back again and kissed Harry as if he wanted to devour him. “Role-play, is it, Potter? I told you that you were a bloody pervert. Fine, if you want to play the blushing virgin then prepare to be taught.” Draco suddenly stopped what he was doing, looking slightly green. “You don’t want me to…play Potions Master do you?”

“Not unless you’re Draco Malfoy, Potions Master, if that’s what concerns you.” Harry kissed Draco again, long and hard. “Why don’t we forget the role play and just go with Draco Malfoy fucking Harry Potter until he screams?”

And so they did. Twice.

DAY 5 – FRIDAY

When Harry woke up, he felt properly warm for the first time on the trip. He nestled his head into Draco’s chest, breathing in the scent of him. He smelled so fucking good. Harry reached up and brushed a stray lock of hair out of Draco’s eyes. Malfoy looked so peaceful when he slept.

“Creepy, Potter. Seriously. Stop watching me sleep.”

“You’re like a bloody dog, Malfoy, sleeping with one eye open.”

Malfoy stretched. He was more like a giant cat, than a dog, thought Harry. He was practically purring. “You learn to sleep with one eye open when you hang around with Death Eaters, Potter.”

Harry snorted. “I bet.” He let his head fall back to Draco’s chest feeling shy suddenly. “We should think about packing up soon. Getting back.”  
“Soon.” As he finished stretching languorously, Draco began to card his fingers through Harry’s hair.

“S’good. Relaxing.”

“Relaxing? Merlin, Potter. I’m naked in bed next to you and you find it relaxing? I’m Draco bloody Malfoy, not a Hufflepuff girl. Sex on legs, playboy of the wizarding world, guaranteed to make you scream…” Malfoy mouthed the last part in Harry’s ear, making him shiver in memory of the previous night and smile into Draco’s chest.

“Yeah, like I said. Relaxing. Mmmm, going to doze off I think – hey!” Harry felt two slim fingers pinch one of his nipples roughly before he was pushed back onto the floor of the tent, Draco’s hand reaching out and twisting the other nipple.

“Still feeling relaxed?”

“Very.” Harry smirked at Draco and moved Malfoy’s hand to his cock showing him just how relaxed he was feeling.

“Do you know what, Potter?”

“Hmmm?” Draco’s hand had grasped his length now and was moving firmly but tantalisingly slowly, making Harry shiver.

“I think I am quite a fan of Muggle camping after all.” 

DAY 6 – SATURDAY

“Draco?” Harry turned to his side, coming round slowly in the morning sunshine and reaching an arm out to the side of the bed where Draco had slept. The bed was cold and there was no warm body for Harry to cuddle into. He stretched out on the bed, smiling at the memory of the previous night. As promised, he had taken Draco back to his small flat in Hogsmeade and cooked, Harry-style. When it came time for desert, Harry had brought out the chocolate fondue. Having a chocolate fountain was fairly tacky, but the mixture of melted chocolate, dipping, sucking and licking had led to some truly fantastic sex. Harry grinned more broadly, thinking he really should introduce Draco to whipped cream.

Harry could hear things clattering in the kitchen however and smiled to himself. Who would have thought Draco Malfoy could be such a bloody house elf. He was obviously making breakfast for Harry. Harry grinned and padded towards the other room in his cotton pyjama bottoms. “Malfoy, I don’t know what you think you’re doing out of bed, but I suggest you get that fine arse of yours back there right now so that I can tie you up with my old Gryffindor tie and fuck you until you scream…or lick you and then suck you…or you can fuck me until I scream, I haven’t decided yet…perhaps you would like a detention with Professor Potter – oh holy crap!!”  
Harry entered the kitchen where Ron was clutching a mug of tea, looking like he was going to vomit, Hermione was trying very unsuccessfully to hide her giggles behind her own mug of tea and Lupin was grinning broadly at Harry. Meanwhile, Malfoy bloody house elf that he was, stood at the stove, his shoulders and back shaking with silent laughter. He turned around and met Harry’s eyes, a wide smile on his face.

“Your friends wanted to see how you survived the trip, Harry. I told them it had gone very well. So well, in fact, I suggested that I had decided to come and join you for breakfast and you were just taking a quick shower. I thought you might like to be the one to tell people just how well the trip had actually gone in your own time, but it looks as though the cat is well and truly out of the bag Professor Potter.”

“Oh shut up, Malfoy.” Harry grinned at Draco and walked over to him, wrapping his arms around him and kissing his head, whispering in his ear so that only Draco could hear “Don’t think you’re going to get away with not giving me any warning about this, Draco…” eliciting a delighted shiver out of the other man.

“So, mate. You and ferret face? I suppose you’ll have to come round for dinner soon and tell us all about it.” Ron blanched and looked askance “I mean, not all about it, of course. Just…you know the PG version.”

“I guess we will.” Harry wrapped his arms around Draco’s waist and rested his chin on Draco’s shoulder as he busied himself buttering toast and plating up piles of eggs and bacon. He caught Lupin’s eye, as Lupin smiled and gave him a wink, clearly pleased for Harry.

Hermione was observing them both happily. “You do make a very handsome couple, you know. I wonder what Professor Snape will think about it all, his two newest professors…”

“Fuck! Snape! I haven’t even done my bloody log book for him, did you?” Harry was looking a bit concerned now and Draco laughed, turning to him and kissing him on the cheek before moving to the table with a plate of toast and marmalade which he began tucking into, licking the sticky jam off his fingers in a way that Harry thought should be illegal in front of polite company.

“Not to worry, Harry. I have an idea on that front.”

DAY 8 – MONDAY

“What is the meaning of this?”

Snape looked green. His hair looked even greasier than usual and his black eyes flashed from Harry to Draco and back again, as he brandished two notebooks, one dog eared and caked in dried mud and the other bound with expensive grey leather with D. Malfoy engraved in the bottom right hand corner in elegant script. 

“I’m not sure what you mean, Severus. Does there appear to be a problem?”

“Oh yes, Mr. Malfoy, there most certainly is a problem. Allow me to elaborate.” 

One long, thin, potions stained finger scanned the pages of Draco’s journal looking for something specifically. Snape found what he was looking for and jabbed at the page, his face twisted into a disgusted sneer.

“Day 3, Wednesday. It rained last night and I obviously hadn’t done quite as well with the tent as I had hoped as it began to leak around midnight. I woke up in the morning, freezing cold and the bottom of my sleeping bag was damp. My back was the only part of me that was warm as during the night Potter had moved over to my side of the tent and was nestled against me like some sort of needy puppy dog. He may have utterly atrocious hair, but he really is quite attractive. I do think Potter has the greenest eyes I have ever seen. I hope he wakes up soon. I’m bored and I want to tease him about his bed head.”

Harry snickered and Snape turned to fix his glower on Harry, a look of disgust on his face as Harry visibly blanched.

“Don’t think you are getting away scot free, Potter. I don’t think I have ever read anything quite as disturbing as…where are we…”   
Snape was opening the dog eared book now.

“…Oh yes, ‘Day 2, Tuesday. We went walking and I kissed Malfoy today in the rain. His body was hard against mine and his hair felt like silk in my hands. I don’t think I have ever been so hard in all of my life. This camping lark is bloody brilliant!’ Don’t even get me started on the rest of your entries, Potter, which should frankly have only been submitted with an appropriate warning for filth. What on earth made you think I would be interested in hearing in explicit detail how good Draco tastes or reading about your fetish for tying Slytherins up with your old school tie?!” 

Snape now looked more white than green. Harry could see Draco biting the side of his cheek in an effort not to laugh.

“Did you not enjoy reading about our…experiences…Headmaster?” Harry had cocked his head to one side, studiously avoiding meeting Draco’s eyes as Snape looked as if he was going to explode. 

“As psychologically scarring as it has been for me to read about your ill-advised liaison after spending a sleepless night trying to get the disgusting images of Potter salivating over Draco’s arse out of my mind, imagine my surprise to wake up this morning to be greeted by this!”

The potions stained finger was jabbing at the Daily Prophet and a blurred photo on the front page.

“The Prophet?” Draco looked confused now and turned with a questioning gaze at Harry, who shrugged. “What has the Prophet got to do with me and Harry?”

“The Daily Prophet, Mr. Malfoy, has helpfully supplied my already scarred brain with the perfect illustration for Potter’s disgusting diary.”

“Oh.” 

“Indeed.”

“Let me see – oh holy fuck!” 

Harry was staring at a picture which emblazoned the front page of the Prophet and which had obviously been taken without the knowledge of either himself or Draco on the last night of their camping trip. Photo-Harry was on his back with photo-Draco on top of him, the two men kissing fiercely, hands roaming over one another’s bodies. Thankfully they were both fully clothed but the photo didn’t leave much to the imagination. Harry gaped at the picture until photo-Draco tore himself away from photo-Harry to give actual Harry a wink and a look that was positively filthy.

“One for our mantelpiece, Potter?”

Harry could hear the laughter in Draco’s voice and he looked up at the other man. Harry couldn’t believe it was only a week ago when Draco had barrelled back into his life full of aristocratic snobbery, sartorial elegance, sneering at Harry’s hair and bickering over Muggle camping. 

“You’ve got to admit, Snape, this could do wonders for inter-house rivalry – hang on, our mantelpiece?”

“Yes, Harry, our mantelpiece.” Before Snape could interject with anything else, Draco continued, gazing into Harry’s eyes. “I thought we might…share quarters when term starts. I checked the rules and there is nothing which says two teachers can’t cohabit- -” Draco looked at Snape with a frown as he started to sputter something. “We can each keep our own places outside of Hogwarts, of course...only if you want to.”

Harry couldn’t stop smiling and he reached across to Draco, running a hand softly over his cheek. “You know I want to.” Harry was so busy drinking in the light shining in Draco’s eyes which he was sure was reflected in his own, he barely registered the swish of black robes. Suddenly he felt a sharp tug on his ear and he was being hauled unceremoniously to his feet with Draco being similarly manhandled, his left ear captured in Snape’s other hand.

“Professor Malfoy and Professor Potter, that is quite enough! This behaviour is completely unbecoming of Hogwarts staff. Write romance novels to each other, have a bonding ceremony, shag your bloody house elves for all I care, just do it the hell away from me!” Snape was speaking though gritted teeth as he propelled the two men towards the door of his office. 

“But Severus, I was going to ask if you wanted to come out for dinner with Harry and-”

“Mr. Malfoy, I suggest you do not finish that sentence. The thought of you and Potter rolling around the British countryside like two lovesick teenagers writing bloody poetry and porn to one another in your little diaries is quite enough information for me to stomach for now. I have no desire to come out to supper with you and watch at you gaze at each other over my soup. Next you will be asking that I assist you with choosing the right napkins for your wizard bonding ceremony.”

Snape was apoplectic and he looked as if his head was going to explode, as he took in the entwined hands of the two men with a groan. “Good lord, there is nothing I can do to stop it I suppose but I have read about and watched first hand enough of your displays of romance to last me a lifetime. If I hear so much as a whimper coming from the Astronomy Tower, the DADA classroom or, Merlin forbid, the Potions classroom during term time you will be out on your ears, and if you must gaze at each other like lost puppies   
I suggest you do it outside of the Great Hall and anywhere else where the rest of your unfortunate public have to eat. Now get out!”

As the door slammed behind them, Harry and Draco waited until they had descended halfway down the spiral staircase before bursting into laughter.

“Do you think he enjoyed reading the journals?”

“You didn’t tell me you were going to make yours so smutty, Potter. I looked like a blithering romantic idiot, waxing lyrical about your bloody eyes.”

“You love my eyes!”

“Hmmmm,” Harry found himself pushed against the cold stone wall as Draco began running his hands down the side of Harry’s body, forcing his head back against the stone as he nuzzled into his neck. “Poor Severus is probably trying to think of excuses not to be my best man. We should thank him, really.” Draco was laughing into Harry’s neck now, kissing and nipping a line from his jaw to his collarbone “What would you like to do now?”

“Choose some cushions for our new quarters – Merlin!” Harry let out a groan as Draco moved one hand to the side of Harry’s head and the other to the loop of his belt, pulling Harry’s groin towards him. Harry bit his lip and moaned as the soft lips which had been working their way up and down his throat met his own.

“You don’t think I’m actually going to let you dress our rooms, Potter when you can barely manage to dress yourself, do you? Besides, I was hoping we could go back to that house of yours and you can put me in detention Professor.” Draco pulled back when they had both finished kissing each other breathless. “When we have done that, we should probably make the most of our last weekend before school starts again. What are your plans?”

“Oh, I don’t know…” Harry grabbed Draco’s hands, pulling him willingly away to a spot outside of the grounds which they could apparate from. “I know a great little campsite in   
Wales…”

Draco cocked and eyebrow at Harry, smirking. “Let me bring the food and wine, Harry. You just make sure you get your journal back from Severus. I love a good bedtime story.”

~Fin~


End file.
